


Between Rain and Sun

by Saxon_Jesus



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-07-28
Updated: 2009-07-28
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saxon_Jesus/pseuds/Saxon_Jesus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Innocent Rain epilogue story. As the Exorcists of Innocent Rain struggle to rebuild, they soon discover that life without war is a lot harder than previously expected. Lots of OCs. </p><p>Published originally back in 2009. Still unfinished. May never be, so I guess its on Hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Between Rain and Sun

Chapter 1--Limits

Awareness seeped into him like a slowly filling pool. At first, Yuu could only hear an annoying, persistent, beeping. It leaked its way into his groggy mind, rousing it from a dusty sleep. His ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, and his mouth didn’t feel any better. It tasted like something had crawled into it and died. From how heavy his body seemed, Yuu wondered if that had indeed been the case. Testing his senses, his immediately realized Lavi was not next to him.

Heart beginning to race in panic—and that annoying beeping was speeding up, too—Yuu tried to snap his eyes open. Where was Lavi? He should have been there, in the bed with him. But his eyes couldn’t open for some reason, and Yuu couldn’t look around for him.

Forcing himself to calm down, Yuu decided to search for the man’s scent. He wrinkled his nose immediately as the institutional, sterile smell assaulted his nose. Fighting the urge to sneeze, he realized something warm was in his hand, and something heavy was lying on his chest. The Japanese man relaxed immediately. Despite his strange position, Lavi was still there. Yuu took another breath, and this time, beneath the overpowering hospital stench, he could smell ink and paper. The corners of his mouth tried to tilt up in a tiny smile, though the muscles seemed so weak that even such a small feat was impossible. He took another breath, but something caught in his throat, and before he knew what was happening, he was hacking and spasming with a weakness he didn't like, tossing Lavi's head about with the rough movements of his chest.

The redhead sat up, leaving the cool, sterile air to attack the little patch of warmth where the man's face had been. Trying not to be frustrated at the lack of muscular control, Yuu pried his eyes open with no small effort. The first thing he saw was his lover, a sight he had missed, though he wasn't exactly sure why. All he remembered--his brain was just as fuzzy as his senses--was being separated from the man. Lavi was staring down in something like wonder, but something about his appearance made the Japanese man feel like he was seeing things strangely. Lavi was... wrong, for lack of a better word. Yuu's eyes felt weak and distorted, but Lavi was too pale, his eye too dull. His hair didn’t shine with the healthy glow Yuu had grown accustomed to. Tiny freckles he’d never noticed before stood out in stark contrast against Lavi’s skin. Even more concerning, though, was how _thin_ the man looked. His face was gaunt, the skin stretched tightly against cheek and jawbones. Yuu moved his eyes from Lavi’s face and tried to gaze down at their connected hands. Lavi’s was lying on top of his, looking somewhat mangled and terribly skeletal.

"Yuu?" Lavi asked, sounding disbelieving. His tone had something deeper, something darker, beneath it, but Yuu's brain wasn't functioning properly, and he didn't understand what it was. "You're awake?"

The beeping noise was really annoying. It was probably the stupid rabbit being a stupid idiot, so he tried to swat his hand--failing--and cracked open his mouth, which was just as dry as it had been moments before. It was as if he hadn't had water for a very, very long time. " _Rabi, stop beeping._ " It didn't even bother him that he had replied in Japanese--it was as if his tongue wouldn’t let him speak English, as if he couldn’t remember quite what the sounds were.

“You’re eighteen minutes and fifty-eight seconds early,” Lavi said, his voice hushed. His eye was still lit in wonder, and his voice reflected it. Yuu tried to smile, but his lips wouldn't turn upward. Stubbornly, he redoubled his efforts and was rewarded with a twitch, but no further movement could be made, and he quickly dropped the expression. It was tiring to keep up. He laughed at his own physical state, but that, too, came out rather lackluster, just a croaky shadow of what it had once been. Still, he needed to talk, to say something again, because Lavi was there, and tired as he was, he wanted to stay awake and enjoy any stolen moment he could.

"You would know the exact time," he replied, mumbling. The Japanese man proud of himself for sounding less raspy until a tiny cough bubbled up his throat.

Lavi's eye became very, very soft, and his blanched, clammy face mirrored the emotion. His hand twitched toward Yuu's, and a tiny flutter of something pained flew across his face. The Japanese man didn't know quite what it was--his brain was still too tired and noodly to be of much good--but guilt followed it, as did a sad droop in the air surrounding the redhead.

"I love you," Lavi whispered, and he sounded almost mournful, though Yuu knew that couldn't be right. There was something else at play. Obviously, the man wasn't well, that much could be seen, even with the weakest of eyes. And it had nothing to do with the beeping sound the man was _still fucking making._

" _Baka Usagi,_ " Yuu said, his voice nearly catching. It didn't, though, and encouraged by his slight victory over his body, he attempted to raise his arm.

It was a huge mistake. The appendage felt like it was made from lead. The effort of raising it just a centimeter made his eyes almost droop, but he was determined to just... reach...

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Stop.

" _You're still beeping._ "

There was something very important that he was supposed to grab, but it was out of sight, which was getting so blurry, more indistinct than it had been when he'd first awoken. And his arm was starting to weigh more heavily, as if a walrus had made its home atop it. Something elusive and green moved in the dimmest corner of his vision. That was what he was aiming for.

"That's the heart monitor, Yuu-chan, not me." The voice floated down to him, hitting him with such sweet relief that he almost forgot that he had to keep holding that damn walrus up. And maybe Tiedoll was sitting on the walrus, drawing something inconsequential, like a rowboat. Or that heart monitor thing that voice had just mentioned. Tiedoll would probably want to draw that. And if Tiedoll was there, that meant Marie was close behind, along with Miranda and Lolek and Daisya...

And they would all sit on the walrus that was on Yuu's arm, depending on him to hold it up, but he was just so...

" _Tired_..." It slipped out of his lips like a whispered afterthought. Yuu's eyes fell completely closed in the effort of keeping the artists and animals (Daisya was definitely an animal, as was the walrus) up so high.

"You'll wake up again, right?" The voice was speaking quickly, and its tone was almost worried. Was it afraid he'd drop everyone? His arm waved about, struggling with the immense weight. But he needed to answer; it was imperative. His hand found something warm, and it felt very much like a support, something to help him keep all of Tiedoll's fat (and the walrus) suspended. Something felt very right as his fingers laced with this support. But he still needed to answer.

" _Of course._ " He barely comprehended the words as he said them. The voice seemed happy, though, even if it didn't say or do anything. He just knew it was happy, because whatever he said as he held his burden had made the air lighten a bit, though he didn't know how.

"Sleep well, then," the voice whispered. It was deep and content, if almost impossible to hear. And Yuu knew that he could let all the stupid idiots on his arm drop--even the walrus--because it was okay now.

Lavi.

Unbidden, the name came to his mind. He didn't know why.

" _Aishiteru_ ," he mumbled, because it was true. And then oblivion took him and the walrus and Tiedoll and Marie and Miranda and Lolek and Daisya and everyone into a blackness he had not truly seen in months.

\---

Clarity was not an easy thing to find, but Yuu was bored of the dark, and he wanted to see something inexplicably _red_ instead. So he clawed his way to the surface again, just because he was Yuu and that was what he did. He heard voices, very clear voices. One reminded him of orchids, and the other, the terrible, grinding noise that was overshadowing that beautiful sound, reminded him of... _bean sprouts_. And to top things off, that fucking mysterious beeping noise was still there.

That's when he realized what wasn't there. There was no rabbit-like voice in that conversation. There was no stupid rabbit there to talk with him, to notice that he had woken up and smile down at him because, after what was several attempts now, he couldn't get up. He decided to engage the two voices, see who exactly was in his room, so very, very close. But wait, perhaps he should actually open his eyes, to see just who these intruders were. Just in case.

It took a few attempts, but finally he was able to lift his lead-lined eyelids. His vision was still blurry, but not as bad as it had been the first time, and the haze disappeared after a few more seconds.

It was Lenalee. She was sitting next to his bed, her hand placed calmly over his. She was looking away from him, toward something white and annoying by the door.

"Lenalee, come on, he isn't going to wake up while we're gone! Lavi won't know we've gone and come back. Please, come with me." Yuu's vision cleared a little more, making it easier to see the owner of that God-awful voice.

"No, Allen, I promised Lavi that I would stay until he got back from physical therapy. I am not leaving. Go by yourself." Lenalee's voice was stern, and Yuu wanted to laugh at the Bean Sprout's downcast look, but his throat hurt. It hurt a lot, now that he thought about it.

Attempting to get the dark-haired girl's attention, he tried to say her name, but it came out as a cough.

Lenalee's head snapped to the left, her eyes meeting his and a huge smile blossoming on her face.

"Yuu-kun, you're awake again!" Her voice was filled with relief and joy, and it made Yuu want to smile back at her, but he was thrown into another coughing fit. "Do you want water? Allen, help me lift his head."

He wanted to protest, tell her that he didn't want _Moyashi_ anywhere near him, that he could do it himself. But it seemed as though it had become, if possible, harder to move, and he was soon being jostled into position, with Lenalee holding a straw to his lips.

It would have been embarrassing, had he been able to move at all, but all he could feel at the moment was relief as cool water washed away the dry burning that had settled into his throat.

As Lenalee pulled the glass away, he took a breath and choked, coughing for another few minutes before it began to calm.

He felt _Moyashi_ shift him so that he was sitting up against the pillows. Looking around, Yuu took in the small, white hospital room. There were flowers everywhere. Not that he disliked flowers, but it made the room seem like someone was dying, and the sheer number of outrageous bouquets hinted at a certain American girl's influence. There was another bed pushed up close to his, effectively putting Lenalee in a very squished position. But said girl did not seem to mind in the least. She just continued to smile at him with that same serene expression she had whenever everyone was gathered together for an Order party. Like she knew her whole family was safe, if only for those brief moments.

"Sorry about all this, Yuu-kun," she said, and though the smile on her face made her look anything but, the Japanese man knew the girl well enough to understand that she was simply too happy at the moment to not let it show. He had a nagging feeling _he_ was the reason behind the happiness. He wouldn't admit it--he'd barely acknowledge it in the safety of his own mind--but it made him feel kind of warm to know that someone so... precious... to him loved him just as dearly. But she would never know that.

He tried to shrug in response, but his shoulders wouldn't move, weighed down by the same force that was enacting a toll on his eyelids. They were becoming heavy again, actually, and his head sank further into the pillow as he gave up his fight to lift it. He really wanted to stay awake so that he could continue feeling Lenalee's tiny hand keeping his own heavy appendage warm, so that he could watch his redheaded lover amble back into the room, so that he could regain his strength and beat the shit out of _Moyashi_ for _daring_ to touch him. But mostly so that he could look down at that serene smile and know that he had put it there, that someone besides Lavi cared about him enough to stay at his bedside. It was a strange feeling, something he'd never experienced before. Perhaps it was Mugen's effect on his mind, healing him like the Lotus Spell could not, like even Lavi could not.

There were some things that Lavi could not heal. There were bonds of friendship that needed to be formed, there were ways of life that no longer applied now that there was no longer a war. Yuu was not stupid. He knew that he was not well-educated and that his current temperament would not suit the modern world. He could no longer afford not to trust, not if he wanted to live a healthy life. And he did, because he knew that for the first time, there was so much ahead of him. And he'd never forgive himself if Lavi didn't live his life properly.

He felt incompetent, almost, like he was missing a great part of himself in his torturous past. It seemed strange to him now, after all the years of wishing to die, of fighting a war that seemed to never end, of never knowing that another life existed, that he now had to consider a life without all of that. He had a future now, something he had barely hoped for all those years ago, something that would have been out of reach that 115 years prior. He wanted to live--there was so much to live _for_ \--but right now that all could wait, because his eyes were closing, unable to keep up their fight against the relentless waves of sleep that seemed all too keen on taking him under.

\---

He woke up a few more times after that, each at a different time of day, but the one constant about all of those moments was that Lavi was always there. It seemed as if the man didn't go anywhere, he just sat there and read, waiting for Yuu to wake up. So when he woke up on a morning a week after he had seen Lenalee, it was strange not having the redhead there by his bedside. It was even stranger to hear coughing and spluttering noises coming from the bathroom. He became concerned when Lavi walked out of the small room, looking green and shaking slightly.

The redhead looked over at the bed and saw that Yuu was awake, and the dark-haired man knew that something was wrong when the smile he received didn't reach Lavi's eye. Something was definitely wrong. Lavi walked over and sat himself down in the chair that had its permanent place next to his bed.

"Hey, Yuu-chan. You need anything?" It alarmed Yuu just how weak his voice sounded. It was rough and quiet as if it hurt to speak. He would have been thrilled with the shake of his head he managed to give in response, but he was too concerned as to why Lavi was sitting farther away than normal, not even touching the bed.

" _Baka Usagi_ , what's wrong?" He was relieved when it didn't hurt to speak. _Small mercies_ , he thought.

Lavi just grimaced a little and looked away, his dull green eye turned so far that Yuu couldn't see it from this angle. He tried to scowl, but the muscles controlling his eyebrows needed to be oiled.

"I'm fine," Lavi said, but he sounded tired. Using what very little strength he had at the moment, Yuu hefted himself forward, surprised when his efforts actually paid off. He made to touch his lover, but the man stepped back, panic beneath all the weary layers in his eye.

" _Che_. That's about as convincing as _Moyashi_ saying he hates food. I'm too tired to deal with this, rabbit. Tell me," Yuu insisted. Though his voice was still rough sounding from both disuse and fatigue, the message was still clear. Reluctantly, the redhead looked at him once more.

"You know I have MRSA," Lavi stated. Yuu nodded, proud that he could do so at all, even if it was little more than a jerk of the head. "Well, that's leading to other infections. It's nothing horrible. At least I'm not coughing up blood anymore."

Something deep inside of him froze. He'd known about that, of course-- _Moyashi_ never shut up about it--but every time he heard how bad his lover's condition really was, it struck him full of dread, and all he could do was sit there, barely able to move, unable to help Lavi when the man needed him most.

It was that, Yuu thought, that was most annoying. His complete _inability_ to be useful in any manner. He was almost a vegetable, barely managing to move even the most vital of body parts.

The door squeaked open, and the nurse bustled in, carrying a syringe. Next to him, Lavi cringed and grimaced slightly.

"Sorry, I took out the IV," the redhead said sheepishly, scratching absentmindedly at the angry red skin on the underside of his elbow. The nurse rolled her eyes, muttering something along the lines of "of course," and then hooked Lavi up again. "Must you add the pain meds?" The man asked warily as the nurse pulled out another, smaller syringe.

"Yes, unless you want to parade around physical therapy moaning like an ape," the nurse said. This was a frequent argument, Yuu had come to understand. Lavi said the pain medication messed with his head. Still, that didn't stop the Japanese man from forcing his lover to accept his doses whenever he was awake. Already, Lavi was looking over at him, a pleading expression on his face. Yuu sighed, shaking his head against the pillow. The redhead gave him a pout and turned to the nurse again. She took advantage of the situation, and moments later, Lavi was on his bed, an idiotic, rabbit-like smile on his face and his eye focused somewhere farther than the ceiling. The nurse turned to him, a determined expression on her face. Abruptly, the dark-haired man did not like where this was going.

"Alright, Mr. Kanda, I've been putting this off, since you never responded well to it when you were asleep, but I'm gonna need you to bear with me, okay?"

No, he _really_ didn't like where this was going. "Whatever," he said, though inside he was panicking.

The nurse moved closer, standing on the left side of his bed, and began to draw the thin blanket he had down past his feet. The blue cotton hospital gown barely went past his knees, and it was awkward as well as cold, and his heart rate was spiking. He could tell because that fucking annoying beeping was getting faster.

"Mr. Kanda, you need to relax, all I'm going to do is massage your muscles. It will help you regain movement. It'll probably be sore, but it is for your own good." The young nurse was trying to keep her voice calm, but Yuu could hear the tiny little speck of frustration building.

Yuu knew there really was no rational explanation for the adrenaline pumping through his system; hadn't he just been telling himself that he needed to trust people now that the war was over? But he couldn't stop the sheer paranoia from overwhelming him. He was alone, Lavi was in a drugged-up stupor, he was unable to move, to defend himself. How could he trust this person he had only met a few days ago to just go about _touching_ him?

"Mr. Kanda, calm down, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack! I'm not gonna hurt you. You have to let me do this, I won't overstep my bounds. I need you to tell me it's okay! Please, calm down." Perhaps it was her reassurances that she would not hurt him, that she would only touch him with his permission, that he finally began to calm.

He nodded to the young nurse, and she began to slowly knead at his legs, working out knots that he had never even felt there, feeling just how much of his hard-won muscle was actually gone from his extended sleep.

"You have a lot of muscle mass left for someone who has been in a coma for three months. You are remarkably well off. You should be on your feet in no time if you work at it." Yuu couldn't tell if those were just rehearsed lines that they were supposed to tell coma patients or if the tiny brunette girl actually meant it.

"You have a lot of scars. Oh, wow, do you have a lot!" The nurse exclaimed, reaching his upper calves. She had undoubtedly noticed the scars left over from fits of depression long passed.

" _Che._ Its not your business." The response was like rote to him, a mantra almost, for a past time. He didn't have to worry about people using his past against him anymore. But, still, some responses never died.

The nurse gave him a skeptical look but continued on in her work. After a half an hour she reached his arms. She stopped when she felt the old scars there.

"Mr. Kanda, are these scars from what I think? Because if they are, I think we need to have a talk."

Heaving a heavy sigh, because he had known this was going to happen, he looked the petite nurse in the eye.

"I stopped long ago, and I don't need help getting over it because I already am. And you're not one to scold seeing the shoddy way you hide your own bandages." The girl seemed shocked at the revelation.

Every time he had been awake, he had been watching the young nurse, because he still didn't trust her not to kill him in his sleep. But it became obvious just what the girl was doing to herself. Sometimes, he would catch her retying bandages or flinching when she hit a sensitive spot. He'd also seen traces of blood on her forearms, soaking through the fabric. He had also recognized the haunted look in her eyes, not quite like his own used to be, but still, there was a shadow there, a darkness from some long ago injustice she had suffered. That was all too clear.

The girl, who was now holding one of her wrists, as if she thought her fingers could hide the truth, looked at him coldly.

"Shut up, you have no idea. I... I... it isn't for attention so don't act like you know what's wrong." With all the accusation in her words, the tone was surprisingly even, no trace of anger, just words. Meant to scare people away. He had done that too, he realized, only he had been a better actor.

She was waiting for him to say something in return, waiting for him to lash out at her for the blatant accusation that he had cut himself for attention, even though she had seen the angle of the cuts on his arms. He knew her actions almost as well as he would have his own. So he would control his outbursts, mainly because it wouldn't help, but also because he was tired and didn't have Mugen to wave around.

"I see we have something in common then. You are correct. I don't know what's wrong, but I do know that if you talk about it, people can help," he said coolly, not wanting to provoke the girl. He was tired, he wanted her to leave, come back later when he was more interested in talking.

He wondered what was motivating him to want to help this girl. It was an irrational desire, something that could not benefit him, but he felt it was a good idea for him to aid her. He would have never offered to talk to someone about this before, with the exception of Artemis, but maybe that was something that had changed about him; with the spell gone, maybe this was the way he was supposed to feel.

His eyes felt heavy, but he turned to the girl again, only to see that she was gone. He knew she would be back later. Maybe she would talk to him, maybe not. It didn't really matter to him whether she helped herself or not, but he had offered his minimal assistance to someone, and that in itself was the important thing.

\---

It was an undignified, Infernal Girl-esque squawk that brought him from the depths of his--for once, oddly pleasant--dreams. One second, he had been enjoying a dinner of bamboo shoots and barbequed rat liver (which, for some reason, had been quite tasty) next to his favorite rabbit, the next, he had been staring at a rather luridly-colored stuffed parrot. He tried to focus behind it, and what he saw shocked him almost as much as his first view of Lavi. Amanda, for her part, seemed no better. Her skin was at least tanned, probably from being out in the sun, but it didn't give off a healthy glow, and if Yuu looked closely--something he'd never admit to--he saw patchy sunburns running up and down whatever flesh she had left exposed. The right side of her face was still horribly scarred, but they had faded somewhat. Her eyes, on the other hand, carried bags so deep that Yuu wondered if she'd slept at all. The blue color seemed clouded, dulled somewhat, and the lids were puffed up and pinkish.

She had been crying, and no matter how big a fake smile she plastered on, the Japanese man was used to Lavi and could see through even the most convincing of expressions. During his coma-visit from Lavi, he knew that the idiotic ginger Irishman, Darcy, had broken it off with her. Amanda didn't seem like the type, especially at such a young age, but she still seemed devastated. It wouldn't surprise Yuu at all if she had actually loved the man. He knew their relationship had been more on the physical side, but he also knew that the Infernal Girl did not take sex lightly. She had probably meant every caress far more than Darcy had ever known.

He was a fool, really, to break up with her. The age difference, of course, was an issue, as was the distance, though Yuu supposed the Ark would take care of the latter.

"Get that thing out of my face, or I'll--"

"You'll what?" Amanda asked in mock-disdain, "run me through with Mugen? Yuu-san, you _do_ know the Innocence is gone now, right? Or has all that time in your brain messed you up?" Thankfully, she took a step back, dropping the ornate parrot away from his face. It hit his blankets with a dull _thump_.

Yuu hadn't expected her to be so... like him. An asshole, that was what Lavi had called it before he'd _known_. But it wasn't like Amanda to be so rude, Infernal Girl though she was. Normally, she was rather like his lover, externally fun-loving and stupid but introverted and smart on the inside.

"It only messed me up as much as Darcy did you." It was a harsh come-back, but he didn't know what else to say, and she'd woken him up and made him angry. He scowled at her and then averted his gaze, deeming her unworthy of his attention, despite whatever offended retaliation she would offer him.

Lavi was always a sight that cheered him, though no one else would ever be privy to that information, even the redhead himself. _Especially_ the redhead himself. Just like he was Lavi's sun, Lavi was his axis. Gravity pulled him toward the rabbit, and he revolved around it like one of those stupid doors Amanda was so fond of. Yuu's scowl deepened. That sounded stupid, sappy, and overly poetic, something that should not have originated from his mind. He erased the idea immediately.

And then he realized what was going on in the bed next to his.

The redhead's face was completely blank, a slate wiped of everything except objectivity. Yuu had seen that expression before, in Bookman and later in Lavi. It shouldn't have been there. Lavi's eye shouldn't have been so dull, his voice so monotone. Yuu could barely make out what he was saying--he was talking quietly, and Amanda's chatter was wearing both at his nerves and his ears.

"I don't see how this is your business, Doctor... go... have a massive amount of physical ther... fuck yourself."

That was all Yuu could hear, but that was enough. The young doctor had a clipboard in his hand and was taking notes on Lavi's responses, which didn't seem that unusual, but his piercing stare set off warning bells in the dark-haired man's head immediately.

He didn't know what made him do it, didn't know which factor had given him the strength, but adrenaline burst through his system, and with a swift movement of his arm, he wrenched the blanket from over himself. A quick roll to the side was enough to get his feet on the ground, and he'd taken two steps before his legs remembered that they didn't have enough muscle to promote such an action. They failed him mid-stride, and he went down, arm still outstretched, hitting the ground with a loud noise that he didn't like.

It was enough to get the psychiatrist to look over at him, enough for Lavi's objective mask to break and show both shock and a little bit of fear.

"Mr. Kanda, what are you--?" The psychiatrist asked, obviously stunned. From the floor, Yuu watched him push up what the Japanese man assumed were his reading glasses. And then his neck muscles, also weak from his three-month sleep, died on him, sending his forehead into the tiles.

Large, steady hands reached under his armpits, and Yuu could do nothing but glare at the young man as he lifted him bodily back onto his bed.

"Get out of this room," he hissed, anger still pulsing through him despite his wounded pride. The doctor looked taken aback.

"Excuse me?" He asked, adjusting his glasses again.

If he had had Mugen with him, blood would have been shed. But Yuu didn't, so he improvised, fisting his right hand and thrusting it forward with as much force as he could muster--which, granted, wasn't much, especially since he was still having trouble _lifting_ the appendage--into the man's nose. He felt grim satisfaction when blood started to leak from the orifice. He just wished that he could have done better, but given the circumstances, he was in no position to complain. His pride wouldn't allow it, and even if it did, he'd never give this... this... _psychiatrist_ the satisfaction of knowing how miserable every limit his weak muscles enforced made him.

"If you don't get out and _leave him alone_ , I will find a way to kill you," Yuu growled, giving the psychiatrist what he hoped was his darkest, most serious expression. It was a hospital; he didn't have to be that inventive. Sharp objects littered the room, if one looked for them, and one "accidental" poke with a needle filled with what just "happened to be" too much sedative would do the deed nicely.

"I don't under--"

Yuu didn't want to hear it. "Get out, and stay out. You have no right to go poking into his life unless he asks you." Sparing a glance over at his lover, he noted the barest of shivers taking hold of Lavi's body and knew that this visit had not been the redhead's idea.

The psychiatrist turned tail and left, but Yuu knew he'd be back. Still, Lavi's grateful look broke through the subtle layers of fatigue and gave him enough energy to nod back.

"Way to stick it to the man!" Amanda yelled, but Yuu ignored it, because Lavi had gotten up from his bed and was walking over to him.

"My MRSA's gone," he said quietly, leaning down so that he could press their bodies together in what Yuu assumed was a hug but what turned out to be a mess of limbs. Still, Lavi's kiss on his cheek--and then his lips--made the anger melt away and disappear as if it had never been. He took hold of Lavi's hand, hating the flinch the action instilled and the pained look that stayed on his lover's face. He tried to release it, but the redhead wouldn't let him, curling his fingers around Yuu's as much as he could, given their limited range of motion. It reminded the Japanese man that the limits did not only apply to him; Lavi had them too. And they would both have them for the rest of their lives, though the limits would morph and change. For instance, he would someday regain the muscle mass he had lost, but his temperament would always be limited by what his father had done to him. No doubt, there would be a time when new limits appeared.

But far worse were Lavi's limits. Yuu was not stupid. He'd seen the man's face, and he'd seen the doctors', too. They had hope for him, but hard as the redhead tried, his fingers would do little more than crack and jump further out of alignment. He would never have full use of his hands again, and he would forever live with the pain of dislocation.

"What do you have now?" Yuu said in an attempt to banter, his voice matching Lavi's in volume. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amanda surreptitiously leave the room.

Lavi rolled his eye and smiled, but when he responded, his tone was serious. "I have pneumonia. The doctors have put me on all sorts of antibiotics, though, so besides some fatigue, I should be fine soon. They say it's 'cause the Akuma half destroyed my lung. Oh, and 'cause of the MRSA."

"...You have pneumonia? Lavi... that's..." He didn't know how to respond. To the best of his knowledge, most people with pneumonia _died_.

"I know it was bad back in the nineteenth century, Yuu, but it isn't now. I won't lie to you, though." Lavi's face dropped a bit. "I have a pretty serious infection. Er, MRSA-caused pneumonia is very deadly, but that's mostly to people on ventilators. The doctors have assured me I have a good chance of surviving. They're developing a special antibiotic down in the lab just for my specific case, so like I said, I should be fine." He flashed a smile, but Yuu wasn't convinced. Despite the weakness in his arms, he found the will to clench Lavi closer to him.

"If you die, I will kill you," he threatened, his voice barely a breath in his lover's ear.

"That doesn't make sense..." Lavi muttered, drifting off.

Yuu sighed and decided that the Infernal Girl and all the fucking doctors and problems and limits would have to wait. Right now, Lavi was in his arms for the first time since he'd woken up a week ago, and all he wanted to do was just savor the moment as they both fell back into sleep.


	2. Struggle

Chapter 2--Struggle

__June 10, 2014-- Hospital in London

"Lavi! You idiot! Get off him, you're going to infect him!" The nurse shouted, rousing the redhead from his peaceful rest. At some point, he'd fallen to Yuu's side, but their arms were around each other, and he hadn't slept that well in months. He pouted at the petite woman but got up.

"The doctors said it wasn't infectious," he replied, lying through his teeth. He had needed that. For the first time since Yuu had fallen into his coma, he'd been completely relaxed and at ease. For the first time since his lover had fallen into his coma, Lavi had been truly and wholly happy.

The nurse was giving him her normal "if you don't move your ass now, I may just slip and give you too much medication" glare, so he decided it would be for the best to go back to his own bed and wait for Yuu to wake up.

"How _are_ you feeling, by the way?" The tiny brunette said as she filled a syringe with a clear antibiotic.

The redhead thought for a second, having been in too much of a good mood to actually have paid attention to his condition. He considered being able to move and breathe as good indications of his health, but he could not say the same for the crackle in his lungs. He also felt a bit dizzy, but it could be from lack of food; he hadn't been all that hungry lately. Actually, now that he was aware of it, his chest hurt.

"I'm fine, I feel sick, if that's what you're asking. But I feel okay. Better than when I've been sick before." The nurse nodded and hooked him up to an IV before telling him to stay put and that she would bring him food in a few minutes.

Yuu was still asleep, so there was really nothing for him to do. He had run out of books to read a few days ago and neither Lenalee nor Amanda had been back with anything new. It was odd that the two girls had not come to visit. Lenalee had almost never left, but for some reason she was absent. It struck him how incredibly lonely it was here. What with Yuu asleep for most of the day and with all the people sitting vigil over him gone. Not that he resented them, he just wished that he had someone to talk to instead of doctors and their one assigned nurse.

He was feeling sick today though, more than he had yesterday, but he felt rested, which was a nice change. The wooziness had gotten worse; he suspected that it had something to do with whatever the nurse had given him. As always, the drugs impaired his acute senses, and though he mourned their loss, the dizziness was starting to pile up on him like sand reclaiming a desert tomb. Lavi shook his head, though it didn't do any good. Actually, it made the feeling worse, and he had no choice but to let his head fall back onto his pillow.

Glaring at the nurse, Lavi began taking deep breaths. As with the nausea, this exercise helped with his dizziness. But the exercise was only helping a tiny bit and he was caught with the sudden and familiar urge to empty his stomach, which he did, halfway between his bed and the bathroom, IV cart stuck on the bed rail. The fit also brought about a wave of coughing, which ended up with him gagging for air on some very interestingly colored mucus. Brown, red, and green, it looked like a Christmas day feast, only composed of bodily fluids.

He heard a concerned sounding grunt from behind him, and wiping away incidental tears, he stood up and looked at his lover, who had just awoken.

"Hey, Yuu-chan, you're awake!" He tried to sound enthusiastic but failed, seeing as his throat was sore from the acid and he was out of breath.

"You look terrible, go sit down."

Lavi tried to laugh, it was so like Yuu to add an insult to such caring and concerned words. "Nahh, I'm fine Yuu, just had a little stomach acid that I needed to get out. Nothing serious. I woulda made it if my IV hadn't gotten caught."

 

He chuckled and moved to sit down, because he felt really tired now. He also felt cold, which was strange, seeing as his sun was awake and looking at him with such a wonderful concerned expression. He wanted to go over to Yuu and tell him everything was going to be okay, that he had been through worse before the dark-haired man had woken up, but he couldn't seem to gather up the energy to move.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the nurse come back in, give the mess on the floor a cursory glance, and then walk over to him.

"Mr. Lavi, you said you felt fine, you were lying, weren't you?" She didn't sound annoyed for once, and he could hear the concerned tone in her voice. She was, after all, a very nice person once one got to know her, and Lavi had had plenty of time to do that in the recent months.

"No, when you asked me, I did feel fine. Now I don't. Actually, I feel really bad. I think I may need to lay down, but I'm stuck." He shook his arm. The tube attached hit the bed rail where it had become stuck. Normally, he could have fixed it, but he was still unable to move his hands well.

The tiny nurse unhooked the caught IV and brought the stand over to the side of the bed, helping him to lay down. She felt his forehead, and he saw the tiny hint of worry cross her features before she turned to Yuu.

"Would you like the food I brought him?" She asked, her voice carrying an undertone of exasperation. Lavi knew exactly how many times she had brought him things just to have him refuse it due to extreme nausea. He sent her an apologetic grimace, and she nodded in response, showing him that she understood and was at least glad that there was now someone else to give the food to.

" _Che_ ," Yuu said, tilting his head away slightly. He was still having trouble with most movements, though he seemed to have perfected the art of nodding and shaking his head. And Lavi had to admit, he'd been very glad when his lover had saved him from Dr. Stripper, as Amanda had begun to call him.

The nurse looked mystified, and Lavi would have rolled his eye had he not been using all his conscious effort to keep himself awake. He thought he might ask for some coffee or tea, though he knew the petite girl would refuse, giving him that "you can't be serious, you great big buffoon" look.

Instead of making his request, he took pity on the young nurse and said, "that means he wants soba, but seeing as he has little choice, he'll probably end up eating what you give him."

Yuu shot him a scowl that told him exactly what the man would do to him if he had the muscle mass to follow through on the threat.

"Alright, then..." she said uneasily, flipping her brown hair back as she moved the cart over to the other bed. Yuu followed her movements with an intolerant glare.

"Lighten up, Yuu-chan," Lavi mumbled. "She's never done anything to deserve this."

The Japanese man made a grunting noise, but his expression never diminished as she fed him--his arm still couldn't support more than its own weight. His face darkened with each bite, and he looked somewhere between constipated and irate when she left the room, a very nearly terrified look haunting her features.

Lavi managed to stay awake for the next two hours by turning on the overhead television. He wasn't fascinated by any show in particular, but he was so bored that anything was better than just sitting there and watching Yuu sleep. He understood his lover's condition, understood that waking from a coma was a gradual process, but he still wished the man would _stay awake_ already. It had worn on him more than he'd ever admit to get through the sickness of the past three months on his own, and he assumed that Lenalee and Allen and everyone else had decided to stop coming so much now that his lover was officially off the dead-to-the-world list.

But, dear God was he bored. After flipping through all the available channels a few times, he finally settled on something very odd and wonderfully intriguing. It was about an alien who looked human and traveled through time and space in a police call box. He went on crazy adventures, and it managed to keep the redhead's attention away from the chills that had appeared after the first hour. It seemed that the show was doing some kind of special, allowing it to play in a eight-hour marathon, something for which Lavi was glad. He watched through its entirety, even as the doctors came in and started manhandling him--they called it physical therapy. Actually, the show was just engaging enough for him to tune out some of the pain, though his Bookman-honed senses still took in a lot of it.

At some point, Yuu had started to stir, but after looking over hopefully, Lavi noted that his lover was still asleep. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, especially after the doctors left and the show ended, swapped for some kind of on-air game show. There was nothing else to do but sleep, so Lavi forfeited himself to it, simply because he was too bored to do anything else.

His dreams weren't usually strange or fanciful, weren't usually anything more than vivid memory or run-throughs of training that no longer applied to him. But this time was different. He was a beta particle, swimming--even though that made no sense--around the vast expanses of space, reaching stars far earlier than he should have. All around him were other particles; Allen was there, and he was speeding about like a motor boat, making Lavi seem like an old, antiqued train.

"Hey, guys, look! I'm a gamma particle!" Allen shouted as he bulleted past the nearest star, made a u-turn, and hit Yuu, who was an alpha particle, square in the chest. The Japanese man, who was little more than a blue ball with black hair and the letter A emblazoned on his front, scowled and attempted to follow the white-haired white ball. Allen cackled and upped his velocity, making figure-eight patterns as he waited for the angry man pursuing him to catch up.

Next to Lavi, Lenalee--a rather dashing Hydrogen atom--giggled and commented, "it's fun watching them play with each other. I always love seeing Allen's smile."

Lavi nodded, though he preferred seeing _Yuu's_ smile a lot more than his scowl.

"I will beat you!" Amanda's voice protruded through all space, even though logically, Lavi knew there wasn't supposed to be any sound. Or Yuu-shaped alpha particles. Or Lavi-shaped beta particles. But this was a dream, obviously, so he supposed anything went.

"No, you won't! We're right next to each other!" Darcy's Irish lilt responded just as loudly. Lavi looked over and saw the two racing toward the nearest planet--it looked like Venus--looking for all intents and purposes like an Oxygen molecule, double bond and all. Behind them, a Carbon atom--Komui--followed, rolling his eyes at the crazy couple's insane antics. A smaller Carbon atom followed, though it looked much like a robot. Lenalee gave a growl and sped off after the second Carbon atom, giving it a swift kick that made it explode into tiny electrons.

" _Gege_ , what did I say about creating more Komurins!?" She shouted, and the organic Carbon atom seemed to quiver under her mighty glare.

Just then, Allen went gamboling by, effectively cutting through Amanda and Darcy's double bond as they passed in front of Lavi, and the two of them went flying apart, both losing direction and stability without the other near them.

And then, like all dreams, it faded away, the warring Yuu and Allen replaced by huge, terrifying insects, Lenalee and the quivering Komui morphing into Bookman and a younger Lavi. Amanda and Darcy vanished from view, becoming the scenery--a large, open battlefield. All around him was smoke and blood and death and fear rolled into one vast, oppressive atmosphere. It was hot, and it became hard to breathe, like a weight was pushing down on his heart and chest and lungs. Young Lavi tripped, still unused to his lack of depth perception, and felt his knees scrape on the harsh rubble that was the ground. To his right were discarded cannons and weapons, and tiny fires bloomed from the last volley of shots. Bookman paused for a moment, allowing him to right himself and come back up to the man's side.

"This is an exercise for you, James," Bookman said, his gravelly tone reminding the young Lavi of much more unforgiving surfaces than that of the battlefield. "There are several hundred dead here. I am going to leave you here and meet you at the other side. I want to know the number of dead, as well as the faces, names, relative ages, and nationality of each. Later, I expect you to draw them all for me and relate all this information. I expect nothing less than perfection."

James--the young Lavi--nodded, wanting very much to grab hold of the old man's hand and walk with him through this desolate wasteland. But he could not. He was Bookman's heir. He could not show fear, though that was the only thing Bookman had said he was allowed to feel. It was personal, the old man had said as he had darkened the circles around his eyes with more paint. It was something that was necessary to survival. If a Bookman did not feel fear for himself--and only for himself, he had emphasized--then there was no way he could stay alive and record all the secret goings-on of the world. So Lavi broke from Bookman's side and began to sweep the ground with his less powerful left eye.

He counted four hundred and two. And when he met up with his master, the man patted him on the head, rumpling his hair a little, and told him he'd done a good job, now go draw the faces before you forget. You must never forget, James, you must never forget.

 _No_ , thought James, unaware that this would become a mantra he would repeat in his head at all times, _I must never forget_.

And as he drew, his hand clenched painfully--too painfully, Lavi realized, even for the dream--over the pen, never forgetting, always remembering, placing perfect stroke after perfect stroke and then writing all pertinent information beneath the face--he grew cold.

The fire was dying, but it was too cold, even if that part of the memory was true. He wasn't supposed to be shivering this hard. Lavi had shivered often, especially during the harsh winters when he and Bookman had been forced to camp outside for the night, becoming closer than Lavi had ever wanted to be with the old man in order to share body heat, all because they had not found lodgings or were too far in the middle of nowhere to do the same. But the redhead had never shivered this hard, like he was surrounded in a vast, deep ocean of ice cold water.

He cracked his eye open, remembering the faces-- _always_ remembering the faces--and moaned a little as reality came back into sight. And then he gasped, squirming as he realized where he was. It was very cold, just like in his dream, and it was big and white and filled with ice. Above him stood several nurses, one of whom was his and Yuu's personal one, Claire Anderson, and behind them, concerned expressions on their faces, were two doctors.

"He's awake," the petite brunette nurse Lavi had come to like said, though it was quite obvious, and he figured she didn't really need to say anything at all.

"What's his temperature?" The doctor on the right asked. He looked a bit like a walrus, especially as his mustache was little more than a few whiskers failing at any sort of formation. Another curly-haired nurse looked over at Dr. Walrus, her face an ode to relief.

"It's down to 40 degrees," she said. Dr. Walrus nodded and gestured for the nurses to let Lavi out of the bath, something he was truly glad to vacate. He tried to step out, but his legs were numb, and the three nurses ended up catching him and half-carrying him back to his bed.

"Wha' wazzit before?" Lavi slurred, because for some reason, his tongue wasn't working so well either.

"Forty-two point three," Nurse Curly responded primly. The other nurse's beeper went off, and she left the room, looking harried. Quickly doing the math, Lavi's mouth fell open. Most brain damage caused by fever started at forty-two point two. Maybe that's why his tongue was being so annoyingly lazy. He hoped not. A stabbing emotion went through his heart. He'd hate to have to live with limited cognitive function in addition to his useless hands. The stabbing feeling morphed into a wave and turned around to attack his entire chest cavity, making it difficult to breath. The redhead wasn't entirely sure if that was from the pneumonia.

There was a grunting sound to Lavi's left as the second doctor, a strange-looking, gray-haired Indian man with an accent thicker than Vikram's, ordered the remaining two nurses to hook him up to an IV filled with cool fluids. The redhead looked over to see dark, charcoal-colored eyes in a deep, piercing glare that in others, Lavi would associate with violence. With Yuu, though, Lavi knew better. The Japanese man was obviously very worried, and Lavi couldn't blame him.

Feeling began trickling back into his legs, and Lavi felt Yuu's sort-of-angry stare hot on his neck the entire time the nurses asked him questions like how was he feeling and could he feel the stick they were prodding his toes with.

Once they'd vacated, though, assuming him to be just fine and assuring him they'd both be back in ten minutes to run some more tests, Yuu's silence cracked.

"Are you really okay?" The man asked, and Lavi was concerned at the crack in his voice.

"Er, yeah," the redhead replied shakily after taking inventory on his still quivering body. Everything seemed to be there, the eye patch was still in place, and though some appendages were still tingly, he could feel them all, especially his hands, which ached just as they always did.

Yuu scoffed, his eyes narrowing and his mouth arcing downward in an expression of both disbelief and anger. "You just had a fucking seizure, rabbit, don't tell me you're fucking okay."

Lavi raised his eyebrows. "I had what?" He asked blankly. That would make sense, though, he figured. It gave a pretty clear-cut reason for his persistently shaking limbs and soggy mind.

"A seizure," Yuu repeated angrily, his eyebrows encroaching on his dark irises in a way Lavi didn't like. It hid one of his only ways of reading the man's emotions from view, and though he wouldn't have said it years ago, he found his lover's eyes beautiful, like two onyx gems superimposed on a pale golden canvas. Or maybe his mind was still screwed up, because where the fuck had that thought come from?

"Oi, Lavi, pay attention!" Yuu growled at him.

He must have zoned out for a second, which was stupid, because he never zoned out. It wasn't allowed, not as an Exorcist and not as a Bookman. Both had instilled the art of attention in him, and though he was neither any longer, that value would--or should--always stay with him.

"Sorry, Yuu, guess my brain's still a bit fuzzy. I must be sicker than I think. Everything's just really weird right now, just sorta off, so I guess I'm not okay."

The Japanese man grew even more concerned-looking, but there wasn't much Lavi could do; he was really tired again. He registered the two nurses returning with carts of supplies and bulky equipment, but Lavi was already too sleepy to ask them what they were going to do. He'd find out when he woke up next.

\---

Yuu watched as the nurses returned with their carts of electronic equipment. Lavi had gone quiet after a few minutes, but he seemed to just be sleeping. Which was okay as long as he didn't have another seizure. That was something he was sure he never wanted to experience again. The redhead had been asleep when Yuu had woken from the short nap he was taking, and everything had been calm. But then he had started hearing Lavi mumbling strange things in his sleep. Something about gamma particles, whatever those were, and oxygen molecules. It seemed relatively peaceful, for which Yuu was glad. The idiot didn't need nightmares while he was sick. The dream soon shifted, though, or so it appeared, as Lavi's face grew dark and his murmurs cold. The heart monitor at his side spiked rapidly along with the temperature gauge.

The redhead was thrashing a bit, but that was normal; Lavi had always been a restless sleeper. Suddenly he went still, and his heart rate rose higher, a sudden intense shaking overtaking him. Alarmed, Yuu pressed the emergency call button that the nurse had placed by his bed in case something serious happened. He'd never used it, so he hoped the petite woman would come quickly.

Thankfully she did, bringing with her another nurse. The two women took only a few moments to realize what was happening. One ran out the door, while the small brunette, Claire, if Yuu remembered correctly, stayed and grabbed a syringe out of one of the medical carts that had been placed in the room. She ran over to Lavi and injected the solution into his arm. After a few seconds, the seizing stopped, but Yuu couldn't relax yet, as the nurse looked at the redhead's monitor and gasped.

"Forty-one point nine!" Her voice was frantic, and she reached over to the bedside cart, pulling out a pair of scissors and proceeding to cut his lover's shirt away. She then took the pitcher of water from the nightstand and poured it over him.

The other nurse returned with a curly-haired one and two doctors. The curly-haired one ran into the bathroom carrying two buckets of what appeared to be ice. From the sounds that were coming from within the tiny room, the bath was being run and the ice was being poured into it. While this was happening the two doctors were lifting Lavi from his bed and moving him into the bathroom.

There was a large splashing sound, followed by Claire and the third nurse running from the room, returning half a minute later with more buckets of ice.

And then there was silence. Yuu was left alone in the room, waiting for any sign from inside the adjoining bathroom. None of the physicians were speaking and there was no sound for around five minutes.

It was the longest five minutes of Yuu's life. It drove into him the realization of just how useless he was. He had only been able to sit there and watch as the whole scene had played itself out, unable to get up and help, unable to be the anchor that he knew Lavi needed. He felt like he had failed at something intangible, but yet so important that it was the very reason for his existence.

Then it hit him. He'd failed to protect Lavi. If he had been awake, had been able to sit by his lover's bedside and wait for him to wake, then he would have noticed the spiking temperature and heart rate before they had become life threatening. It was the worst kind of feeling, one that he would make sure he would never feel again... if there would ever be another chance after this, because the doctors and nurses were being too quiet. Something had to be seriously wrong, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to break that oppressive silence to ask what was happening.

Then the quiet was broken by a light, hushed alto voice. "He's awake."

It was Nurse Claire who had spoken. After her voice came a flurry of commotion. Someone asked for Lavi's temperature, and Yuu felt his heart clench slightly when it was said. How could the redhead have survived such a high fever?

A wave of relief washed over Yuu as he watched the two doctors carry Lavi back to his bed. The doctors ordered the nurses give him cold fluids and to run some tests before leaving.

He saw Lavi give him cursory glances, but Yuu was going to wait until the nurses left. That way Lavi would have no incentive to lie about how he was feeling.

Once the last person had vacated the room, he turned to his lover, trying to hide just how afraid he was for the man across from him. But the emotion leaked through a little as he spoke.

"Are you really okay?" It wasn't exactly what he had been going for, but he supposed it got his point across.

The redhead gave him a tiny smile, which was a little off, but replied, "er, yeah."

The high tenor was shaky and an obvious lie if the trembling limbs and pallor were anything to go by.

" _Che._ You just had a fucking seizure, rabbit, don't tell me you're fucking okay."

The rabbit gave him a curious expression, one that made Yuu realize that Lavi had not been conscious throughout the entire affair.

"I had what?" There was even more disbelief in his voice.

"A seizure," he repeated, wanting to add on a _Baka Usagi_ or something else that would hide his anxiety, but he noticed that his lover's green eye was very far away and that he hadn't replied to Yuu's last comment.

Lavi never zoned out, he was too paranoid to ever completely do that, and he never did it while having a conversation.

"Oi, Lavi, pay attention!" He growled, hoping to snap the redhead out of it.

It worked. Lavi's eye refocused on him, and after a brief moment of disorientation, he responded with something close to a satisfactory answer. "Sorry, Yuu, guess my brain's still a bit fuzzy. I must be sicker than I think. Everything's just really weird right now, just sorta off, so I guess I'm not okay."

Yuu watched the other man for another moment as he fell asleep, the unease in his heart an uncomfortable reminder of what had just occurred. He suddenly found himself wishing there was someone else there, telling him that everything was going to be alright, even if they were lying to him. It was a strange thought to have, but it was there nonetheless.

Two of the nurses from before returned, rolling in two large carts of equipment. Claire returned with a fresh IV bag and hooked the redhead up. She checked his monitor, frowned, and left as the two other nurses attached Lavi to what looked like some sort of breathing machine.

The nurses left a few minutes later, pulling the curtain between the two beds closed as they left. Yuu didn't understand why they had done that, but it really pissed him off. He felt even more useless not being able to see Lavi. How was he supposed to know if the idiot was still alive?

After another few hours, Claire returned with food. She looked concerned but would not tell him what was wrong, merely fed him and left, without so much as a sentence spoken between them.

He managed to stay awake for the rest of the day, watching as doctors came in periodically to check on his lover. A particularly walrus-like doctor paused to take some notes on his clipboard, and Yuu, who was getting annoyed with the silent treatment, tried to get the man's attention.

"Hey, will someone tell me what the hell is wrong with him?" It came out rougher than he would have liked, but that didn't matter, because he had gotten the man's attention.

The man looked up from his writing and gazed at Yuu as if the door had just spoken to him. The dark-haired man had discovered that many of the doctors here tended to ignore patients that weren't their own unless one was particularly vulgar with them.

"Ah, Mr. Lavi has been put on a ventilator to help facilitate breathing, because in his current condition, his lungs are full of fluid. His temperature has returned to an almost normal level, so there should not be any more worry as to seizures, but that may change. If he continues to receive the antibiotic, his condition should improve rapidly." The man spoke quickly and as if he knew what he was talking about, but Yuu was still on edge.

Lavi had said that his type of pneumonia was more deadly to people on ventilators; that was reason enough to worry. But it was good news, he thought, that the redhead's temperature had gone down.

"Why has the curtain been pulled?" Yuu asked, more annoyed at the fact that he couldn't see his lover than at the man's attempt to leave after he had told Yuu the information.

"The patient is asleep, we've given him sedatives so that he will stay asleep and recover faster. The curtain is to keep him from being disturbed. Now, I must go and attend to my other patients."

The doctor with the crazy mustache left, white coattails flying behind him, and Yuu wondered what he was going to do until Lavi was awake and he could be assured of his health.

Lavi stayed asleep for the next three days. Yuu had managed on his own, but it was surprisingly lonely without Lavi there to keep his mind off of the monotony. He spent his days trying to regain muscle control and strength. He could work with utensils and could manage to write short notes with the pencil Nurse Claire had provided. It was progress, no matter how small it seemed to him.

Around midday, Lenalee came to visit. When she walked in, she saw Lavi's bed curtained off, and Yuu watched the smile slide off her face. The dark-haired girl rushed to his side, grasping Yuu's hand.

"Yuu-kun, what happened? Is Lavi okay?" Yuu knew how much each of her friends meant to the Chinese girl, so he tried to give her a reassuring smile, but the fear was still present behind her eyes.

"He's fine. Just sleeping. He has pneumonia, but the doctors say he'll be fine." He tried to sound confident in his words, but his unease and worry slipped through.

Lenalee gave him one of her calm, all too caring smiles and squeezed his hand tighter. That was another surprising thing--he didn't mind having her touching him; he liked having her there trying to comfort him, even though he should have scoffed and pulled his hand away. This was too out of character... but maybe that was just another change that had occurred. He didn't have to shrink away from contact, he could reach out to people, make connections and bonds. Tell people things, listen to them as they told him things in return.

"I'm sorry I haven't been to visit, Yuu-kun, but I was away with Road planning my wedding. We're hopefully going to have it once you two are out of here. We want you there... well _I_ want you there, Allen still doesn't want to admit that he thinks of you as his friend, but I think one day he'll come around. What do you think?"

Yuu had almost forgotten that _Moyashi_ had finally gotten the nerve to propose, and the thought of the shrimp thinking of him as a friend was too preposterous not to be laughed at, so he did.

" _Che._ I'd rather die than admit I liked that Bean Sprout."

Lenalee chuckled at that. It made him feel warm inside to have made Lenalee smile. It was strange how much he was feeling now. Almost overwhelming, but not quite. It felt right, like things long broken were starting to mend.

They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the hospital. He then noticed Lenalee looking at him with an overtly curious expression. When she noticed him watching, she swiftly looked away, an embarrassed blush on her face.

"What are you staring at?" He asked, wondering just what had caught her attention. He was sure he looked strange with short hair, but that didn't give her the right to stare.

"Ah, nothing, Yuu-kun." The dark-haired girl averted her eyes more.

"Just tell me what you're looking at." He hated when people hid what they wanted. He preferred people who were straight-out and honest with him. Like Lavi. No, that was a bad example. He scrapped it and decided to bring his mind back to the present.

Lenalee's blush deepened.

"I... I was looking at your scars. I know it's rude, but I... never noticed how many you have before, and its really obvious on your scalp. I'm sorry for staring." She looked genuinely apologetic, but Yuu felt a bit ruffled. This was not where he wanted the conversation to go. Moreover, he didn't really know how to respond. Part of him--the more dominant half--wanted to scoff and look away, ignoring her presence completely, even if it was immature and a defense mechanism that would no longer serve him. The other part of him, the new, more caring part that was beginning to concern him, wanted him to look her straight in the eyes and ask her what the hell she was getting at. But both were wrong for this situation. He could no longer afford to put off this conversation, and at the moment, what with all the weird changes and urges and feelings, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Lenalee took his silence the wrong way, her blush deepening as she pulled her hand from his and backed up. She gazed wildly at the door, probably securing in her head the best escape route. Yuu wanted to let her go, he really did, but he didn't, and before he could recall telling his body to do it, his hand shot out in a feat of strength that shouldn't have been there just a week and a half after waking. His fingers tried their best to curl around Lenalee's wrist, though the extremity slid easily through his liquid grasp.

It was enough, though, to make her turn around, her face a mixture of sheepishness, guilt, and hope.

She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Ultimately, it was up to Yuu to bring up the topic of his scars, to show the Chinese girl he was comfortable enough with it to discuss it with her. He'd talked to Lavi about it on that horrible night and later, during many late nights they spent just talking until the first rays of the sun fell onto the bed. He'd spent many of those nights curled--though he wouldn't describe it that way--in Lavi's arms, reliving and rehashing past hardships until they stopped haunting his dreams.

Of course, there were many dreams, probably too many for him to eliminate entirely, but Lavi's silent support and easy comfort had made him come to terms with the abuse in a way no other could. Perhaps Lenalee could help in much the same way. Maybe if another person knew, the burden would lessen. Wasn't that a basic principle of something-or-other? A burden shared is a burden halved. If he could split that burden in thirds, maybe the ever-present pain in the back of his head would dissipate somewhat.

And now he was making up excuses so that he wouldn't have to admit that maybe, just _maybe_ , he _wanted_ Lenalee to know. Opening his mouth to speak, he took a breath, but nothing would come out. Lenalee's hand slid comfortably into his, a tiny but necessary presence. Yuu opened his mouth again, knowing he looked like an idiot but not quite mustering up the nerve to care. And so he began.

"You know..." he stated softly, not quite meeting the Chinese girl's gaze, "...they're from my father."

The dark-haired girl simply nodded and squeezed his hand, probably to urge him to continue.

"One night, I was more hungry than usual, and though my mother told me to stay out of the kitchen until I was called, I went in to ask when dinner was ready. I walked in to see my father raping my mother over the table. He came after me, and he raped me for the first time..."

There was a bustling on the other side of Lavi's curtain, but Yuu ignored it. If this didn't come out now, it never would--he'd never work up the nerve again. It didn't matter if some inconsequential hospital worker heard his story; it wasn't like they were going to repeat it to anyone, especially after he went through some of the worst memories.

He went on to explain all the horrors of his life, skimming through details he had not spared Lavi from. Lenalee remained silent the entire time, waiting for him to finish his story before she commented. By the time he was done, she was, like Lavi had been, a distinct shade of green.

"I... that's a lot to digest, Yuu-kun," she said somewhat breathlessly, though her hand remained steadfastly in his.

"There's a reason that I don't tell people about it. You just... I wanted you to know." There. It was said. He couldn't take it back. It was out there in the world to be taken however the other party would. Lenalee's eyes turned a little glassy, kind of like she was denying tears from forming in her eyes. Tolerant though Yuu might now be, he didn't want any crying. It made him uneasy. And it was annoying.

"I know... I just... can I give you a hug?" Lenalee asked, losing her battle against the tears. They meandered down her cheeks, gaining in number and velocity as Yuu looked away, nodding. He didn't mind that much as Lenalee's hand tightened in his own, pulling him down into her. It looked vaguely ridiculous, he assumed. He was a grown man, and though by some standards, he could seem short or slim, Lenalee's thin form was distinctly more feminine than his could ever be. If he had been able to see himself, he was sure he would have scoffed and called himself an idiot. He was hunched into her shoulder, her arms stretching around his back.

And for some reason, he was crying too. Well, not so much crying as furiously blinking back unexplainable moisture in his eyes, shaking with the force of his efforts. Lenalee pulled him all the closer, and though they weren't meshed into one person like Lavi always sought to do, there was still something very important, very warm, and very comforting about the hug. His head on her shoulder, her head on his shoulder, grasping hands on his back, light hold on hers, shaking all around. A tear fell loose, and it splashed on the white cover. But he ignored it.

He'd told Lenalee. And she'd still accepted him. It wasn't like he hadn't been expecting her to, but for some reason, there had been an unconscious fear beneath all the layers of pain and suffering. It was some sort of self-conscious feeling he'd never before experienced. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not, since it brought a sense of vulnerability. But maybe he could tolerate it, just for Lenalee. Because she was his _friend_. And she accepted him, loved him, even, and he could say the exact same of her.

Something clattered behind Lavi's curtain, alerting Yuu to the continued presence of whatever nosey nurse was there.

"Dear Lord, don't just stare at me like that!" The nurse exclaimed, and Yuu placed the voice immediately as that of the tiny brunette assigned to him and Lavi. He tried to feel anger at her having heard his story, but he couldn't conjure it. He felt an affinity with her, and if he had a choice of eavesdroppers, he'd choose her every time.

"What's going on?" Lenalee asked, pulling out from the gentle embrace. Yuu felt very cold as she moved to the other side of the curtain, unable to comprehend why the hug had warmed him in a way that at one time, only Lavi could do.

"He's awake, don't know how long," the nurse replied. Sighing in relief as if an invisible force had been lifted from his shoulders, Yuu concentrated on hearing as much as he could of the conversation. Maybe he could even guilt the nurse into pulling the curtain back.

\---

There was an odd, metronomic noise, rather like some kind of pump, and it was annoying Lavi not to know what it was. Ignoring the beeping of his EKG as usual, he pried his eye open with some difficulty, given how crusty it seemed. It was as if it had been shut for quite a while.

The first thing he noticed was that there was a curtain separating his part of the room from Yuu's. It was long and hung just barely an inch from the floor. Thankfully, it was thin enough for Lavi to see his lover's silhouette, but his heart ached for more. The second thing he noticed was that he was very, very cold, only in a way that suggested fever. The third, and perhaps most important, thing he noticed was that there was a tube in his mouth, extending down his throat and presumably into his lungs. Looking to his right, he found the source of the odd noise. It was a ventilator.

His heart plummeted mid-ache. He'd told Yuu before he'd gone to sleep that the MRSA-caused pneumonia was more deadly to those on ventilators. He was on a ventilator. He supposed it was probably better for him, seeing as it was doing a much better job breathing than he had been, but he knew at once that he couldn't communicate. He could make facial expressions to a point, yes, but without proper control of his mouth and with only one eye, such non-verbal communication was at a minimum. Having a tube down his throat meant he couldn't make a noise, and of course, his hands were still very much out of commission.

He could hear voices on the other side of the curtain. And it annoyed him greatly in his current position.

He recognized the clear rainbow-like qualities of Lenalee's voice and the deep buttery smoothness of his lover's. Lenalee sounded like she was crying, and from the strange silhouette through the curtain, he could tell the two where hugging, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why such an act would be occurring. A deep, all encompassing fear spread through him when he realized that Lenalee wasn't the only one crying.

Why was Yuu crying? He never cried. The only times he'd done that had been when he'd been talking about his past or when he'd thought Lavi'd left him. But Yuu wouldn't have been talking about his past with Lenalee, would he? Not after all the trouble he'd gone through to keep it a secret. The whole situation didn't make sense. Maybe someone had died. But no, Yuu wouldn't cry just for that. Lavi was starting to panic a little, not being able to move without blocking off his airway.

What was going on with Yuu? He needed to find out, stop him from crying. Unless, of course, he was the reason. Could he be sicker than he had previously suspected? How long _had_ he been asleep?

The redhead looked around the room, searching for any sign of the date. He didn't find it, but he did see their nurse. She was standing beside the curtain, her face frozen as if she was concentrating on something very, very difficult. She was also slightly green. Lavi noticed how she was playing with what appeared to be bandages around her wrists. He stared at her a good minute before the petite woman looked over at him, gave a startled yelp, and then dropped her tray of supplies onto the floor.

"Dear Lord, don't just stare at me like that!" She exclaimed, and Lavi rolled his eye. What did she expect him to do? Get up and walk around, waving his arms in the process?

"What's going on?" Lenalee's voice asked as it drifted under the curtain.

Looking over, he saw her stand.

"He's awake, don't know how long," the nurse answered, sounding breathless.

The curtain was pushed aside, and the Chinese girl closed it before walking onto Lavi's side of the room. Her eyes were red, and she, too, had a faint greenish tint to her features. Just what had the two been talking about?

"Lavi, you're awake. Thank goodness." There was a great deal of relief in her voice.

He tried to indicate in some way his own relief, but the ventilator and other equipment made that impossible. So he settled for sighing heavily, hoping it got his exasperation across.

Apparently it did, because Nurse Claire walked over and began to slowly remove the tube, much to Lavi's relief. However, it did incite a rather large and prolonged coughing fit that produced more mucus than any disease had the right to. Afer the fit had calmed, though, his breathing became much easier.

"What's with the curtain? It feels like someone's dying in here, open it up." The truth was that he just wanted to see Yuu. To assure the man that he was still here. Lenalee happily obliged, looking slightly ashamed for having closed it, and when the dark-haired man came into view, Lavi felt almost ten degrees warmer--and that had nothing to do with his fever.

He sent the Japanese man a large smile and was happy to receive a scoff in return. Lenalee settled herself into her chair, and the nurse left the room a few moments later. Lavi watched as Lenalee kept looking over at Yuu with something like sympathy and understanding on her features. And Yuu kept looking over at the Chinese girl with some emotion even Lavi had never seen on his face. Finally, the curiosity became too much.

"So, what were you two cryin' about while I was asleep? It was obviously somethin' interesting or else Claire wouldn't have been eavesdropping."

Lenalee's face turned bright red and Yuu looked away--Lavi had to chuckle a little at his obvious attempt to hide his own blush.

"None or your business," Yuu growled, but Lavi knew how to get the information out of his lover.

"But... but... Yuu, why not? It can't be anything you can't share with me!" He tried to look as pathetic and dejected as possible, and, of course, it worked.

" _Che._ I told Lenalee."

Lavi knew what he meant; it couldn't have meant anything else. It was just unbelievable. He couldn't describe how--proud, happy?--he was for his lover.

"Wow, Yuu-chan, if I wasn't infectious, I'd go over there and give ya a big ol' congratulatory kiss, but I can't."

Perhaps that wasn't the best response, judging by the glare he received from Yuu. It was one of those "I am legitimately going to kill you, this is not a threat" kind of glares. It made Lavi question just how long he'd been asleep. Obviously, it was long enough for Yuu to be upset.

"Sorry, how long have I been asleep?" He put on his most apologetic expression, hoping to calm the Japanese man's ire.

"Three days."

The words were clipped as if Yuu had wanted to add something else onto the end but had refrained because Lenalee was in the room. Lavi understood; three days was far too long, he knew from waiting for Yuu to wake. He felt really bad doing that to his lover, but he really hadn't had any control over it.

"How are you feeling today, Lavi?" Lenalee asked quietly, having noticed that Yuu was still glaring daggers at him.

"I feel much better than I did before. I think the worst of it may have passed." 

He just hoped that was true.


	3. No More Sorrow

Chapter 3--No More Sorrow

__March 17, 2014--National Capital Territory of Delhi, Delhi, India

It was perhaps the most terrifying journey Sasaki could have imagined. Yes, Vikram had left him with a task, and he was going to fulfill his former lover's dying request. He just didn't understand how many fucking _Maitras_ there were in India. It had taken him nearly a month just to get the correct city--all the records were in Mandarin, which despite being half-raised in the Asian Branch of the Order, he couldn't speak. But that had been the easy bit. He stared at the dark wooden door with a feeling of trepidation. He only had a picture dug up from the back of Vikram's drawer (the one he'd dubbed his "Choon-yei drawer," since it was the one that contained the late old lady's stolen lock of hair), and it had been taken years ago.

Sasaki couldn't even begin to describe the feeling of relief that washed over him as a middle-aged woman answered the door, looking nearly identical to the one in the picture. There were a few differences, of course. The woman's hair was around the same length, though it was now streaked with several shades of stormy gray. Wrinkles adorned her face in a sophisticated and artful way that few woman could truly pull off, and her small brown eyes were emphasized by subtle laugh lines. The woman couldn't have been taller than Choon-yei had once been, and though she carried quite a bit of weight, Sasaki would not call her fat. Perhaps something with more zing, like pleasantly plump. It put a positive spin on those who were just slightly overweight.

The woman's face dropped a little, her smile fading as she took in Sasaki's formal Exorcist uniform. Two children, both of them rather small and obviously somewhere in the vicinity of six to eight, came up behind her, clinging to her ornate, brightly-colored _sari_. The fabrics looked a fair bit cheaper than the gaudy kinds he'd seen on the streets. While not the pinnacle of fashion, they were pleasant in their own right, and Sasaki found himself liking the outfit more than the others he'd seen.

"I'm sorry," the woman spoke in thickly-accented English, "but I must ask that you return at another time. I'm hosting a party at the moment." She began to back subtly into her house, and Sasaki ended up nearly lunging to catch the door as the lady ushered her pouting children in.

"Wait," he said, his heart beating in slight panic. He couldn't let the woman get away without at least conveying Vikram's final message. She narrowed her eyes somewhat, but the set of her expression implied that she would hear him out and that he'd better make it quick. Fishing into his pocket, he produced the carnelian prayer beads Vikram had told the Japanese then-woman he'd gotten from his father. The woman's eyes widened and her mouth became a big "o" shape. A delicate yet slightly pudgy hand, decked out with gold rings tipped with bright stones, made its way to her heart. She looked quite faint. Taking a deep breath, Sasaki continued, "he would have wanted you to have them, I think."

Her hand shaking with absolute shock, the woman took the string of beads from his light grasp. She fisted them tightly, and her eyes began to water. Within moments, tears began their sad tracks down her slightly round cheeks. "How do you know my Vikram?" She asked him, her voice trembling as much as her body.

"We were--" _lovers_ , Sasaki wanted to say, but he could not. Perhaps it would be better for Vikram's mother not to know. Perhaps it would be best for the both of them. "He was my best friend." It tore at his chest to say that. Because for years, even though they'd both fought it, they'd been so much more. That space between best friends and boyfriends, that awkward "won't acknowledge what I'm feeling" stage. And then he'd gone and broken that silence, and Vikram had been so distressed. But still, they hadn't truly been best friends since the day Sasaki had returned from Road's possession.

"Come in, then, dear," Vikram's mother said. Sasaki forced himself to nod even though his throat had tightened up beyond capacity for speech and tears were sparkling in his eyes. To be so accepted by his former lover's mother. By his best friend and first love's mother. It was something he had always wanted.

He was ushered inside, where a full-out party was in bloom. At once, the Japanese man recognized Vikram's father, whose image was also in the picture. He looked aged beyond just fifteen years. He wouldn't say it out loud, but Sasaki was almost positive it had something to do with Vikram's rash departure.

The large crowd within the home quieted when Sasaki entered the family room. Many of the people looked like they were relatives. Vikram's father stood up, recognizing the symbol on his jacket immediately.

"May I ask why someone from the Dark Order has come to my home? Is the war not over? Have we not lost enough children to your war? Has our city not been decimated because of it?" Sasaki wondered if the man knew Vikram had been in the Order. Either from the documentary filmed in December or perhaps from the preview shown on the news.

"Sanjay," Vikram's mother stood behind him, a calming hand upraised. In it were Vikram's prayerbeads, dangling freely. 

The old man's face drained of any rage that had been present, replaced only with an expression of overwhelming sadness. It seemed as if the whole room understood the significance of the beads.

"He was gone for sixteen years. We had long ago thought him to be dead. Why, after all these years, did he not send us a letter? Why would he leave us to think him a runaway?" Vikram's father's words were soft, pleading almost, and all Sasaki could do was shake his head. Could he really tell these people the real reason Vikram had not written? No, he couldn't. He couldn't tell them that his friend had hated them. He would lie to them, because he did not want anyone's memory of Vikram to be one of anger and sadness.

"He told me once that he didn't write because it was better to think him dead than to have hope that he would be coming back. He asked me to come here to apologize to you. He told me that he ran away out of a childish tantrum, was found by the Order, and could not apologize for leaving. It was his last request for me to come here. He saved my life, and I couldn't refuse." He was crying, he felt the tears on his face, but he did not wipe them away.

He was not the only one. The whole room was crying, remembering old memories of the little nine-year-old before his disappearance. Behind him Vikram's mother was crying as well.

"The last thing I said to him was that I never wanted to see him again. I was so stupid. Now I will never have the chance to tell him I'm sorry, I'll never get to hug my baby again." Family crowded around the weeping woman, and Sasaki felt like he was intruding in a very private moment, so he looked away.

He felt someone approach him, and his still ingrained paranoia made him turn to face the person. Vikram's father stood next to him, his hand outstretched as if he had been about to place it on his shoulder before Sasaki had turned. The man merely smiled and patted him on the sholuder.

"May we have the body? To say goodbye to?"

Sasaki flinched at the request. The only thing left after the Innocence had washed the square clear was the button from Vikram's jacket. The one that they had used to identify the ashes. It was the only thing Sasaki had kept. So Sasaki shook his head but took the chain from his neck, where the button hung, and handed it to the almost-elderly man. It felt like he was shedding a skin he wasn't ready to part with.

The wizened man turned it over a few times in his hand, smiled that same peaceful, almost knowing smile, and handed the necklace back.

"You keep it. To remember him by. We have the beads and you have the button." Then the man walked over to his still sobbing wife and joined the group hugging her.

The Maitras invited him to stay for dinner, saying it was the only polite thing to do after his long journey. But really, they wanted him to stay so they could hear more about Vikram. Sasaki understood, and he would have been glad to do it if every memory didn't still feel too painful to recall.

He soon became acquainted with Vikram's whole extended family--they had all come to live with Vikram's parents when the number of Akuma attacks had increased in the more rural areas. He met all of his cousins, and his little sisters, Shanti and Lavanya. He had to keep from crying each time another family member was introduced. They all had Vikram's smile and easy attitude. The evening ended late, and when it was finally time to leave, he was escorted to the portal he had used in the Ark by most of the closer relatives. They even hugged him goodbye.

His temporary home in the Ark seemed really empty, lifeless almost. He had promised himself that he wouldn't mourn Vikram, that he would move on and be happy like the crazy Indian had wanted, but Sasaki was finding that harder and harder do believe such a thing was possible. He hadn't even worked up the guts to go home yet. Hiroshi had already left the hospital and had pleaded with him to come too, but he had already made plans to go to India. The only thing left to do now was return to a quiet life in suburban Japan, maybe go to college. It all seemed to be a rather boring prospect, but he had promised to move on.

\---

_March 20, 2014--Osaka, Japan_

He had finally worked up the nerve. He had gotten out of bed, gathered his belongings, and closed his door in the Ark for the last time. He then stepped out of a portal and onto the quiet streets in suburban Osaka. The landscape had definitely changed. There were no tall skyscrapers in the distance. Block upon block of houses had been leveled, and it had not been long enough for new buildings to take their place. He wondered how his tiny street had survived such a catastrophic wave. But there it was, the second to last house on the left, traditional tiled roof and all. Even the nameplate was still there.

He walked up the stone steps to the front door, pausing at the knocker and wondering if he should use it. It was his home, but he had not been there for over half his lifetime. How could it be that he had changed so much in fifteen years and yet this small piece of his life had stayed the same.

He couldn't do this. He would stand there at the door for just a few more seconds and then make a mad dash--the door was opening. A graying woman stood at the entrance. She looked pale, and deep worry lines ran across her face. She was almost unrecognizable. But Sasaki could still see the caring emotion in her eyes, almost overshadowed by the sheer wonder they held at that moment.

" _'Kaa-san_ ," he muttered, disbelieving as well. He hadn't seen the woman in front of him in so many years, and yet there she stood, exactly the same as before, excepting the obvious toll age had exacted on her.

Before his grief- and shock-numbed brain could comprehend it, his mother was pulling him into a firm embrace, one he had always missed, especially during those confusing times with Road.

"Sasaki," his mother said, her voice breathless and sounding just as overwhelmed as he was.

There was the sound of footsteps on wood. He looked past his mother's shoulder to see another face that had nearly been obscured by time.

His father stood at the threshold, holding onto the door as if it were his only anchor to reality. They looked at each other for a long moment before his mother finally broke away. Sasaki couldn't move. He stood rooted to the stone of the entryway.

His father raised his arms in a gesture that could not have been misinterpreted. They both walked forward simultaneously, meeting in the middle of the doorway for their first hug in fifteen years.

The minutes blurred by as he was pulled into the house, his possessions were placed in the guest room, his old room long since renovated for his little sister. He was hugged by his mother, saw his little sister and her boyfriend, was smiled at by Hiroshi, and had his first home-cooked meal in far too long.

It was only as they sat around the low table, chatting lightly, that Sasaki began to notice something was wrong. His mother had been quiet during almost the entire meal, and there was a tension in the way she held herself that had not been prevalent when he'd first walked in.

"They said you'd been killed by the enemy," his father, Haru, said. His voice was distant, his eyes focused on something just as far. "You were only seven."

Sasaki didn't quite freeze, but he stiffened enough for everyone in the family to know that was a sensitive subject. His father shot him a curious look, but he only shook his head. He didn't want his family to know what Road had done to him.

" _Ne,_ Hiro-chan, what did you tell them?" He asked his younger brother. Hiroshi blushed a little bit, and Sasaki assumed the worst.

"Well, we all thought you were going to show up in a dress," his father answered easily, moving from the cushion on the ground and to the couch just a few feet away from the table. With a little huffing noise, Sasaki's mother joined him.

Sasaki felt his face light up in embarrassment. He wished Hiroshi knew how to keep his mouth shut. This was not a conversation he wanted to have.

"I'm over that now." He hoped his tone made his point. This topic was taboo.

He heard his mother whisper something that sounded concerningly like "thank God", but Sasaki chose to ignore it. He didn't want to face disapproving parents just after returning.

The dinner progressed quietly, no one mentioning Sasaki's supposed disappearance. But Mimi was really interested in the places he'd been. He had seen many interesting countries during the war, but each memory was always scarred by fighting or death. He couldn't look back on it with any nostalgia. But he told his little sister the good parts, like seeing the Himalayas, the Great Wall, London, Paris, Delhi, Moscow, New York, Washington, D.C. He told her about seeing the Grand Canyon in winter with Chu-chan and Vikram. He sincerely hoped he hid the hesitation his mind had at the thought of Vikram.

His father wanted to know about his friends. The thought of all the people he had met was bittersweet. He told them about Allen Walker and Lenalee Lee, about Lavi and Kanda, about Choon-yei and Chu-chan, Amanda and Darcy, all of the people who had accepted him for his strange habits. He neglected to tell them about Vikram.

His mother didn't ask him any questions; she didn't seem interested at all. It kind of hurt--he'd been taken by the Order at such a young age, and he wished that she was still acting as warm and welcoming as she had at the door. Her gaze was making him nervous, so to distract himself, he cleaned the table and washed the dishes. Cleaning always calmed him down. Tuan had always laughed at how immaculate his room was.

He excused himself for the night, hoping to escape all of the questions that his family seemed to just be brimming with. The little guest room seemed so much larger than the small room the Order had provided him, it dwarfed even his room in the Ark. He began to sort through his suitcase, looking to put away his clothes. He had very few masculine clothes he realized, he had yet to throw away all his skirts and stockings. Maybe Mimi could wear them, she was about his size.

Staring up at the ceiling, trying to sleep, Sasaki wondered why it felt so strange to be back. He should feel overjoyed to see his family again, be happy to have survived, but he didn't feel that at all. He was happy to see the people he remembered as his family, but they still didn't feel like family. Hiroshi was the closest, but Mimi had been so tiny when he had left that he barely recalled her at all. His parents were just smiling blurs of memory. He didn't feel happy to have survived, he felt loss for all the people who didn't make it. He knew he should feel lucky, hell, half the fucking planet had been killed, but he didn't. He just felt like something was missing. This wasn't how you were supposed to feel when you come home.

\---

_March 28, 2014-- Sasaki's Home_

"Wow, these clothes are perfect! You have really good taste Sasa-nii!" Mimi exclaimed as she sifted through his old clothing.

He wanted someone to use them and he definitely didn't want his mother seeing that he still had them. He was pretty sure his mother did not approve of any of this "type" of activitity. He'd heard her talking about the young man next door in a rather derogatory way. But that didn't really bother Sasaki, he'd just keep his orientation to himself. That was easy enough to do.

"Sasa-nii, who is Vikram Maitra?" Mimi was holding the necklace with Vikram's button. He'd removed it last night and had neglected to put it back on.

"Give me that!" He exclaimed, snatching it back from her. "Just, just don't... touch that."

She looked at him curiously and a large smile spread over her face.

"He was special to you, huh?" Sasaki could only nodd, clutching the chain in his hand, "Is that his goodbye present? Where does he live, you could visit."

He could only shake his head at his sister's innocence.

"Yeah, you could say that. And I don't think I can visit where he is."

He didn't realize he was crying until Mimi leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry. I should have realized. Don't worry, I won't tell 'Kaa-san."

He hugged her tightly, realizing how nice it was to have someone to talk to. As she pulled away, he saw that she was smiling.

"Hey, let's go shopping sometime, you need clothes, and I need to get to know my Sasa-nii."

He was glad for the change of subject. He wanted to get to know his sister as well.

\---

_April 3, 2014--Sasaki's Home_

It was only Sasaki and his parents today. Both Hiroshi and Mimi were out, doing who knew what, and Sasaki was left to deal with the growing tension between himself and his mother. It had started off as small things: disapproving of his long hair, saying he needed to look more manly, and the most blatant had been when she had said he needed to find a nice girl and settle down, because he was already old enough to move out.

He and his father sat a the table eating lunch, with his mother bustling about in the background.

"I'm thinking of applying to architecture school. You won't have to pay, seeing as the Coalition has given all the Exorcists retirement funds, but I thought it was important to tell you."

His father nodded approvingly. His mother, on the other hand, frowned.

"Wouldn't you prefer a more manly career? Maybe an accountant?" She offered innocently.

"Actually, Yumi, architecture is a perfectly many career. He'll be rebuilding our great cities, making them even better than before the war." His father supplied helpfully. Sasaki could hear a note of pride in the older man's voice and couldn't help but be happy.

"Well, what about being a carpenter then? That's manly!" His mother supplied.

"But it pays nothing, and I don't want to be living off the Coalition the rest of my life. I want to help rebuild the war-torn parts of the county, do something useful. That should be _manly_ enough for you." Sasaki responded coolly, not about to show how offended he was. His mother responded with a short glare, but then turned back to her cleaning. Sasaki knew this wouldn't be the end of the tension.

Several days later, his hypothesis was proven correct. Mimi had decided that they were going to go shopping. The local mall had burnt down, so they were going all the way to fucking Tokyo. He would have protested, but Mimi was practically bubbling with excitement. He would have preferred using the Ark, as Sebastian had provided him with a tiny transmitter that would allow travel anywhere and anytime, but Mimi also insisted that they go the old fashioned way. By train. It was the longest three hours and forty minutes of his life.

He wouldn't have believed the amount of paranoia he had built up. He was secure in the knowledge that all the Akuma were gone, it was just that instinct was often stronger than rational thought. Needless to say, he clung to his sister the whole way.

It was worse in the mall, with everyone rushing everywhere, but he managed to keep himself calm enough to focus on where they were going.

"Why are we at a hair salon?" He asked when they stopped in front of the tiny boutique. 

She gave him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, but _'Kaa-san_ said she would buy my a laptop if I got you to cut your hair. I've been begging for one forever, so I have one for college, but she's always refused."

Sasaki smiled at her truly sorrowful face. "It's fine, I was planning on cutting it anyway, but I just hadn't wanted to go out into the real world. And you know, I could have just bought you one, seeing as I am apparently loaded."

"What? Really? Well then, let's get you fixed up!" With that, she pulled him into the salon.

Five hours and roughly 450,203 yen later, they were sitting in a tiny little cafe along the still-bustling streets of a much less crowded Tokyo.

Mimi was chattering happily, all the while sending covert glaces at the box in which her new computer sat. It had been a bit expensive, but Sasaki felt that seeing his sister's face light up with glee was more than enough to make up for the cost. Vikram had always been good with computers and had taught Sasaki all that he had known, so he had been able to pick out the perfect laptop with everything Mimi needed.

"Your hair looks really nice, Sasa-nii."

Running a hand through his substantially shortened locks, he smiled. "Thanks, its nice to have a change of pace. I think it'll be perfectly _manly_ for _'Kaa-san's_ taste."

Mimi cringed a little at the obvious reference.

"I don't really understand what she has against gay people. I mean, you have every right to love whoever the hell you want. She just can't see that your orientation doesn't change who you are," his sister growled.

"I wish Hiroshi hadn't told you guys. I'm not exactly proud of that. I would prefer to forget about it completely." He grimaced at the memories that kept trying to resurface.

"You know you can always tell me. Whatever it is. Hiroshi, too, we'll both listen."

"Thanks, but I think I'd rather keep those experiences to myself."

"That bad, huh?" Was his sister's response.

"Yes, it was that bad. I'm not ready to tell people." She seemed to accept that answer, but it was obvious the question would stand until a later date.

\---

_April 18, 2014--Sasaki's Home_

The neighbor was hitting on him. And it wasn't subtle in any way, shape, or form. Sasaki could literally _feel_ the lust dripping from the man's eyes. And Sasaki was not interested _at all._ He was so not ready for any form of relationship, and especially one involving a man who had no job and no prospects, and besides that, he still lived with his mother. Plus, the neighbor was almost ten years older than he was. It was embarrassing having to deal with someone who kept trying to _touch his hair_. It was creepy and disgusting and... awkward. It also reminded him of how Vikram used to try and run his hands through his hair, how the Indian man had softly brushed his hair and swept it back into its customary low ponytail just before the final battle. It had been enjoyable then, but now it was just wrong.

Not to mention that his mother had him under her super-hawkwoman vision of evil at all times. To escape it, he had gone out into the garden, but instead of finding respite, he had encountered this cretin. The man just wouldn't leave him alone, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

"Did it hurt?" The man asked, pointing toward the barest hint of the scar Road had left on his shoulder. Sasaki scowled.

"No," he said dismissively, hoping the neighbor would take the hint and go the hell away. He wasn't ready for this, and even if he was, he wouldn't choose this man of all people. No, the neighbor--Sasaki still didn't remember his name, a conscious effort of his--wasn't that bad in the looks department, with dark hair just a few shades lighter than Sasaki's own and eyes the color of ebony, with a bulky build implying strength and fitness. Sasaki supposed that any man or woman would look twice at his neighbor, but he could not force himself to do the same. It was too painful, the feelings too close to the surface to do anything but mourn. It was wrong.

"It looks deep, though," the neighbor pointed out. Inwardly, Sasaki seethed. Was the man really that thick? It was frustrating to listen to.

"Of course it looks deep, it was a deep wound," he bit out through clenched teeth. The neighbor took a step back, his arms raising as his agreeable-looking face rose into an expression of alarm. It seemed the man was finally getting the message.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up anything painful for you. It's just... you seem kinda lost here. I noticed you just moved in with the Morikawas a few weeks ago. Are you a relative?"

Or not.

"I'm the eldest son," Sasaki growled, fisting his hands in the grass on which he was sitting. He desperately wished there was a fence between the two yards, but apparently, his parents had never seen fit to install one. Even though his mother would probably be glad to fence the gay guy out or something.

That was another annoyance; his mother would never just shut up. Sasaki knew his mother was homophobic, and while that fact bothered him, he couldn't help but hope she would accept him, simply because he was her son. He didn't care if she thought he was gay because he couldn't get girls--an opinion he'd heard her voice whilst mumbling about the neighbor's "scandalous activities"--as long as she would just stay on his side. It was a stupid hope, but he could prevent it no more than he had been able to prevent Vikram's death two months ago.

"Really? I'd always thought that was Hiroshi-san," the neighbor said lightly.

"No, I... spent many years abroad." He surely wasn't about to tell this complete _stranger_ his life's story. First of all, it wasn't the guy's business, and second of all--no, that was it. It wasn't the guy's business, and if he kept pursuing dangerous topics like this, someone--well, the neighbor, at any rate--would end up severely injured.

"How fascinating. Where did you stay?" It seemed all that Sasaki had done was spark the man's interest. God _damn_ , he wanted to get out of this garden, go somewhere quiet where he could just relax and look down at the small button filched from Vikram's jacket and try to find some sort of peace in the world. Peace was what he needed: peace to find himself, peace to find his place, and peace to finally break the wall in his heart that the Indian man had left. Maybe with enough peace, Sasaki could finally put the past behind him and _let go_.

"China mostly, then Britain," he answered coldly, glaring at the neighbor as an indication that he wanted this conversation to stop. But the man just _didn't seem to get it_. _Still_.

"So, were you studying there?"

"Would you just shut the fuck up already!? I'm tired of listening to your fucking pick-up lines, and if you don't stop messing with my fucking hair, I'll fucking kill you! Can you not get the hint that I don't want to fucking be around you? And yes, that injury _did_ hurt! Wanna know how I got it? I got stabbed with a knife by a little girl while we played 'grown-up cooking.'" He knew he'd switched back to _atashi_ , but at the moment, he was too incensed to do anything but just keep going off on the fucking neighbor. "I don't want to hear another fucking word from you!"

He tried to storm off, tears of agony and sadness and stress and maybe emotional exhaustion pouring down his face like he was five years old again and Hiroshi had stolen his favorite toy.

But karma didn't like him.

With a firm hold, his neighbor gripped his wrist with an almost painfully tight pressure. Sasaki tried to pull away; he twisted his arm about, but the man held on until all sensation in his appendage had gone numb. The neighbor pulled back sharply, yanking Sasaki around so that he was facing the taller, stockier man.

"You're like your mother, then?" The man asked roughly, staring him intensely in the eyes. Sasaki recoiled from it. He didn't want that kind of intimacy, didn't want to feel so very _close_ to this stranger as tears ran relentlessly down his face.

"No, I'm not," he said defiantly, trying to struggle again. The man held him fast, allowing for no escape, and pulled him forward, the hand not bound to Sasaki coming around to brush at the small of his back. It felt hot and weird, nothing like Vikram's had been--warm, spreading tingles of sensation all across his torso.

They were coming close, too close, so he turned his head. This couldn't happen, he wouldn't allow it. Squeezing his eyes shut and wrenching his mouth closed, he trembled, waiting for what was invariably to come. It was unlike him, somehow, but so very like him at the same time. His reactions were still those of a girl, much as he'd tried to rid himself of the vestiges over the past few months. But some things could never be erased. Sasaki knew immediately this was one of them.

Lips touched his briefly and then pulled back. Still he trembled, his eyes and mouth closed and his hands fisted as tight as he could make them. The neighbor made an interested noise, but it seemed negative, like one of defeat.

"Sorry," he said, releasing Sasaki. The Exorcist stayed rooted to the ground, stuck in place by a force far beyond his comprehension. "I didn't mean to... are you okay?"

 _No_ , Sasaki wanted to say, wanted to yell, _I'm_ not _okay! I'll_ never _be okay! Vikram's dead and now you're putting your hands all over me like I'm some kind of whore!_

Instead, he nodded, more tears falling from his still clenched eyes. He was still a girl, still a damsel to be owned by the strongest man who could claim her. _Ladies are damsels, sweet flowers who wait for their prince to come and sweep them away._ Road had told him that. But his prince was gone, and he was no girl. There was nothing, ladylike or not, that he could do to stop the tremors or the tears.

At some point, his legs gave in, and he began to clench at the grass again, simply because it was satisfying when he accidentally tore it from the ground. It felt like he was destroying something, like Akuma. It felt like he was getting closer to his Innocence. Maybe, a little voice in his head hissed slyly, it felt like he was closer to Vikram this way.

\---

It was Hiroshi who found him, and he called Mimi, who joined her older brothers immediately. She pulled Sasaki into a hug and whispered comforting things in his ear that his mother had said once. _It's okay. Everything will be alright. Hush now, everything's just fine._ Stupid things. Simple things.

He needed to hear them, he realized, his arms automatically rising to encircle his sister's back.

They brought him into the house, past his mother, who gave another dissapproving cluck. Sasaki thought he heard something about " _...with the neighbor!_ " But he couldn't be sure, and he was too tired, too drained, too _violated_ , to deal with his mother right now.

Because he knew his hope was groundless.

Wordlessly, he clutched the button--held tightly in his fist during the entirety of his infuriating "conversation" with his neighbor--to his chest. The tears had faded just after Mimi had showed up, but their tracks were left on his cheeks. His younger sister left him and Hiroshi for a bit, and they stayed in silence until she returned with a wet washcloth. Slowly, she began wiping away the marks of emotional upheaval.

He told them. Not everything, but some things. Like how he missed Vikram so much it hurt, like how Chu-chan was brain dead and had had his plug pulled, like how he felt so alone without his two best friends around, like what it had been like to fight side-by-side with them, like how it had felt to watch as Vikram jumped in front of him with arms outstretched, like how he had cried in Yuu-san's room because he felt like the other Japanese man was the closest thing he had to a friend now, even though he was in a coma, like how he still wanted to hurt, maybe kill, Road for what she'd done to him, like how he was still confused as to who he saw in the mirror every morning.

And they understood. They hugged him and accepted him for who he was, no matter what crazy notions he had in his head, no matter who he had slept with in the past, no matter how long it would take him to get better, if such a thing was possible. But most of all, Sasaki knew that they would always support him.

It felt very, very good to have a family. It was not something he had felt in a very, very long time.

\---

_May 10, 2014--Sasaki's Home_

Today, it was just him and his mother. His father was out helping the elderly neighbors move debris from their yard. He had told Sasaki to stay because he wouldn't really be needed. Mimi was out with her boyfriend and Hiroshi... he was hiding from their mother mother in the attic. Because he was the only one tall enough to reach the crawl space. He had a mini fridge, a tv, and a cooler, so he would be gone for hours, or at least until dinner. So Sasaki was stuck. 

So far, they had managed to be civil with one another, sharing a quiet tea time together. But the way his mother was glancing nervously at him told the retired Exorcist that hell could break loose at any moment, or at any word.

"So, Sasaki, tell me more about life in the Order," his mother said expectantly.

Oh, for the love of God. This would not end well. But maybe there was still hope.

"What do you want to know?"

She had something in her hand, but it was obscured by the table. She also had a curious look on her face.

"Who is Vikram Maitra?"

The question was posed innocently enough, but there was an easily detected hint of anger there as well. Sasaki froze. He had forgtten to put on his neckalce with the button, and his mother had been dusting around the house earlier that day. It had been on his nightstand in plain sight. He would have to lie. He didn't want her to know about his Vikram.

"He was a friend," He said simply.

Her eyebrows rose impossibly high. "Oh, really? You didn't mention him before."

"Well, that's because he's dead." 

"You mentioned others who died. Why leave this one out?" Was she trying to get him to say it? He had to guess yes, she probably wanted something to yell about.

"Well, he was my best friend, my first friend at the Order. It hurts to think that he's dead."

"But why keep a button?" That question was genuine curiosity, but this whole conversation was upsetting him.

"Because it was the only thing left of h-him." Fuck, he'd stuttered, that would give her even more ammo against him.

"I have a feeling you were more than just best friends. Am I correct?" Her face was dark, full of accusation when there should have only been concern.

"Would it upset you if I said yes?"

That was all it took; she had her confirmation and now she could exploit it to its fullest.

"I don't want any of that kind of activity in my home. I don't want to see any of that."

Sasaki felt his face heat up in anger. He'd had to deal with this for the past few months, her skirting around this topic, it was almost refreshing to have the truth out in the open.

"Any of _what_ kind of activity mother? You don't want any homosexuality in your home? Well, sorry to burst your ignorant little bubble, but that's what I am! Not by any choice of mine! I did not choose to be this way, it's the way that I am and you should be okay with that because I am your son. Why can't you accept the fact that I am different? I like guys, so what? I used to dress like a woman, why does that matter? Is it my fault that I lost my sense of identity when I was seven after being kidnapped and tortured and made to believe that I was a girl?! I thought I was a girl for fourteen years! I _still_ have trouble distinguishing between Emiko and Sasaki! You know what? I'm sick of this. I'm leaving, and I hope to all the Gods that I never see you again." 

He stormed from the room, flying down the hallway and into the guest room. He packed all of his clothes and belongings and was ready to leave when he realized just how disgustingly _dirty_ everything in the room was. He couldn't leave it like that, could he? It needed to be dealt with immediately.

He folded up his futon, packed it away in the closet, stowed the sheets and took out the vacuum cleaner from the hall closet. After spending a sufficient amount of time making sure all the corners were free of cobwebs, he went about cleaning the windows and wiping of the bookcase and nightstand. There were some scuff marks on the walls. Those had to go before the room was fit to be left.

"Sasaki?" His father was standing in the doorway, "Wow, when I came in I thought you would be gone already. Why are you cleaning?"

The response was immediate, something ingrained in his head after years and years of rehearsing, "Well, ladies are supposed to clean, aren't they?" And then he realized just what had slipped from his mouth. He tried to take it back. " _Atashi..._ fuck."

He wondered if he had slipped while talking with his mother. That would make sense; he always seemed to have trouble when he was upset.

His father was looking at him with wide eyes. He walked into the room completely and took the cloth from his son's hands.

"I'm sorry that she doesn't understand. Are you sure that you want to leave?"

There was no questioning the obvious answer. His father saw that in his eyes and nodded acceptingly.

"Well, I still love you, Mimi and Hiroshi too, even your mother, so stay in touch." The gray old man hugged him and pressed something into his hands.

When he pulled back to see, it was Vikram's button, torn from the chain. But the chain didn't matter, at least he had the button.

"Oh, and Sasaki, here. Call this number if you need anything, I'll help in any way I can."

He took the proffered post-it note and saw a cell phone number printed on it. He stuffed it into a pocket and grabbed his possessions to leave. Hiroshi was down from the attic, and both he and his father bid Sasaki farewell. His mother was nowhere in sight, but perhaps that was for the best. Now the only thing left to do was find a nice little apartment somewhere far away. He hoped Mimi would forgive him for leaving without saying good-bye.


	4. Walk with me

Chapter 4—Walk with me

__August 6, 2014—Hospital in London

It seemed that Lavi's wish had finally been fulfilled, at least to some extent. The worst of his pneumonia had passed within the next three weeks, and by the middle of July, he'd been pronounced fit to leave. While he had been formally discharged and stripped of his bed, Lavi had taken it upon himself to stay in Yuu's. After all, his inner organs seemed just fine, he hadn't thrown up since that time in June, and the only thing he did was work diligently at his physical therapy. Things had taken a turn for the better. After months of little to no progress, Lavi could now bend his hands halfway, and though they ached horribly and protested to the treatment Lavi was giving them, they still moved. He cracked them often, urging the bones back into alignment. At first, Yuu had seemed disgusted, but now he was used to it.

As for his lover, he had been making enormous progress himself. Whenever Lavi was in the room--which was almost all the time, except when he popped to the bathroom or went down to physical therapy, Yuu was lifting light weights. The Japanese man spent as much time as he could working on restrengthening the muscles Lavi loved (but he'd never say that while anyone but Yuu was around. He knew what happened whenever he said sappy and potentially embarrassing things to his lover while others were nearby).

It was also odd, Yuu's strange affinity with the nurse. They'd bonded while she massaged his muscles back when he'd first awoken. She didn't hide her bandages very well, so Lavi knew exactly why they were drawn to each other. One tortured soul comforted by another, as it were. He was glad that Yuu had found someone to talk to, because even if the man pretended he didn't care, Lavi knew he needed someone who understood.

That was why he had told Yuu he was going to visit Chu-chan during the nurse's allotted time to stop by. Not that he would be visiting the man, seeing as it was obvious the Vietnamese general was brain dead--and besides, the redhead wanted to hear what his lover and the tiny nurse would talk about. He supposed that he should feel guilt for eavesdropping, but he didn't, so there was nothing stopping him.

At exactly 12:23 in the afternoon, Lavi left the room, walked down the hall a few meters, saw the nurse enter the room for her daily rounds, and then walked the short distance back to the door, making sure to be completely out of sight, which was easy, seeing as he didn't have to be that close to the door to hear, because his Bookman training had sharpened his hearing enough to filter out unimportant noise.

"How are you today, Mr. Kanda? Where's Mr. Lavi today?" Nurse Claire asked as she bustled around the room, cleaning up books that Lavi had left in piles next to Yuu's bed.

"Fine. He's visiting a friend down the hall." Short and concise, just as Yuu always was. "How are _you_ today."

Well, that was a first. Yuu never asked anyone about their well-being. Hell, he didn't even ask Lavi how he was feeling. It had to have some special significance.

"Better, he hasn't been bothering me lately, so there really hasn't been a need." The young nurse spoke in a hushed voice, as if speaking it too loudly, would alert the whole world to some secret.

"Have you spoken to your brother about it? He helped you out once, he'll do it again." Lavi was really starting to get curious about what had happened to the small brunette. He'd managed to catch snippets of information from their conversations, but they had always stopped speaking when he entered the room.

From what he had gathered, Claire had been abused by her father, and her older brother, who had moved out, had called the police to save her. She apparently still struggled with the emotions the affair had caused.

"Well, he told me not to worry. The parole board denied his appeal, so he'll be staying in prison, but I just wish I could get them to deny his phone privileges. It _bothers_ me when he calls. Brings up too many things to push away." Her voice was shaking slightly.

"You've changed the number?"

Lavi still couldn't wrap his mind around hearing his lover act so concerned over an almost stranger.

"Yeah, three times, but he still manages to keep calling. I'm thinking of moving, maybe with my brother. I'll feel safer."

He heard a half-thoughtful, half-satisfied hum, and he knew that Yuu thought the idea was a good one.

"The doctors say as soon as you're up on your feet, we can start thinking about discharging you."

Lavi heard a derisive snort and a low chuckle. "I've been able to walk for two weeks. I am on my feet." Yuu's voice sounded just as critical as the noises he'd just made. Lavi's breath caught in surprise, his saliva flying into his windpipe. He coughed. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around his mouth to stifle the noise, the ginger hairs on his arms tickling his nose. He bit into the soft skin of his inner elbow, used his lips as a seal against all sound.

Beyond the reconnaissance disaster and inside the room, there was an exasperated sigh. "Well, I mean like for longer distances than it takes to reach the bathroom. We'll be putting you on the treadmill next."

"Whatever."

There was a pause in their conversation. From the awkward shifting of feet, it sounded as if Claire wanted to say something.

"Hey, er, I just wanted to thank you. I know you don't want to hear it, but I need to say it, okay? You really helped me a lot. I mean, look, I don't even need the bandages anymore! I just didn't want them to discharge you without saying it. Now I gotta go before I get too far behind on my rounds."

The sound of footsteps close to the door indicated that the nurse was leaving, so Lavi made to make a hasty retreat down the hall when he was suddenly aware of a small person standing quite close by. Looking down, he saw a short girl with blonde hair. She was smiling up at him with shining blue eyes.

"What'cha doin'?" Sarah asked innocently, leaning into him.

Damn, he'd been caught.

"Er, nothing?" He tried, hoping she'd choose not to ask.

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?" The Noah's gaze became a glare.

"N-no! I was just about to go back into Yuu's room." He looked down at the girl and noticed that the glare was gone, replaced with a blinding smile.

"I'm really not one to judge. I just wanted to give you this and hope you enjoy it. Have a nice day, Lavi!"

With a little suspiciously devious wink, the Noah of Love opened a portal to the Ark and was gone, leaving him standing in the empty hallway, holding a thin brown paper bag. Sighing, Lavi walked back to the room, carrying his bagged burden in one aching hand. He was surprised he could hold it at all, but then, it seemed rather thick. Obviously, it was a book, so he hurried back to the room just in time to see Yuu glaring angrily as he wheeled himself out of the room, having regained enough arm strength to move the contraption.

"Hiya, Yuu-chan!" Lavi chirped happily, walking in front of the wheelchair so that his lover would be forced to stop. He didn't even mind as the general glare Yuu sent out to the world narrowed into a personal scowl just for him. Swooping down, he captured the Japanese man's lips, releasing them after only a moment. Trotting back to the room, Lavi felt Yuu's heated scowl at his back, but he didn't care because the wheelchair prevented his lover from running after him and smacking him for kissing him in such a public place.

Of course, it was much worse since they were both frustrated. With Lavi sick and unable to move his hands, neither had been able to release the tension that had begun to settle soon after Yuu's awakening. The redhead sighed and plopped down onto the Japanese man's bed, making himself nice and cozy under the covers before slowly and excitedly pulling the book from the bag's brown recesses.

It was blank, a journal, with leather binding and two leather strings to tie it shut. Inside was a note.

"Hey, Yuu, come back in, _ne_? We've got a gift!"

The man didn't hear him, it seemed, and Lavi was pretty sure he was going down to physical therapy (where he was _walking_ without telling him, Lavi fumed internally), so he curled up under Yuu's covers and took a nap, clutching the leather book to his chest in a rather girly manner. He woke when Yuu, from the wheelchair, reached over and pulled the book into his own hands, taking the note out. Lavi leaned over to read it with him.

_Dear Lavi, and Yuu, since I know you'll be reading this as well,_

_I know you are both on the mend. Congratulations. This is for you two in case you ever need an outlet. Remember that. Always._

_Love,_

_Sarah_

Yuu replaced the note and closed the book, putting it back in the bag for good measure. "That was kind of her. Odd girl." Lavi leaned into the pillows, squirmed a bit to make himself more comfortable. There was a deep rustling noise against his ear as he turned his head to better view Yuu. The man was next to the bed, and, once parallel to it, he hoisted himself upright and took two shaking steps forward before turning to his right and half-falling, half-collapsing onto the bed.

Lavi's single eye widened until it seemed round and glassy. He had to put on a good show, after all. And maybe he was a little impressed.

"What?" Yuu said, shooting him a look that expressed how little of a deal he wanted to make of this.

"You--you walked!" The redhead exclaimed.

Yuu snorted. "You just noticed?" He asked dryly.

"Well, it's not like you were strutting all over the place."

"I do not _strut_."

"Fine, then, you _saunter_."

"I--alright, I'll concede that."

Lavi grinned, opened his arms wide. Yuu snaked into position, his head resting on Lavi's chest, his hand poised lightly above his abdomen. With his eyes, he sought permission, and when Lavi nodded, the hand softly pressed into his left side, barely even grazing his stomach.

"Your shirt is ugly, Rabbit," he said.

Lavi resisted the urge to stick his fingers in Yuu's hair and mold it into a bird's nest. They still throbbed a little. "You can't really talk," Lavi muttered.

"Lenalee got it for me, so don't--"

"That's your excuse for everything, Yuu-chan. ' _Lenalee got them for me._ ' Please. You enjoy her coddling and you like that shirt. It's just the shade of green makes you look yellow."

"I _am_ yellow."

"Not in a good way, Yuu, and don't make that a racial slur. I didn't mean it that way."

The fingers at his side curled into the fabric of his lime green shirt. "I know," the man said. His head shifted more into the crook of his shoulder.

"Don't you dare say I stink, too."

Yuu smiled. "I wasn't going to, but now that you mention it..."

Lavi scowled and made to get up, but somehow, with some odd strength that Lavi hadn't seen since the battle months ago, Yuu lifted himself on top of the taller man. His face was barely an inch from his own. Lavi's breath caught in his throat. This was not the right time to be frustrated.

Cinnamon lips touched his own, lacking the undertone of lotus that had been there until their time in the hospital. Maybe it was because the spell was broken, but that sweetness underneath all the spice had been something Lavi had always loved about Yuu. It matched the man's personality exactly. He was angry a lot, and he often snapped at people, the redhead included, but beneath all that rage, beneath that mask he had worn so long it had become an integral part of him, there was fear and something so very soft and gentle. And sweet, of course. Sweet, like a lotus's scent on a damp afternoon after a good rain. With that scent gone, Lavi felt the other man was missing something very key to his existence.

Hands, hands that could move and grab and gently caress like Lavi's could not, tenderly brushed the skin of his face before moving to his bright red hair. As Yuu's tongue joined his own, swirling, dancing, those same hands pulled lightly in his hair, undoing knots Lavi had accumulated during his nap. Graceless fingers pulled at something, a persistent knot maybe, and when his eye patch fell to the ground, the redhead didn't care. He was too wrapped up in Yuu's arms, in his scent-- still lacking but always intoxicating--in his soothing caresses. Hands moved to his back and then lower, but they never reached farther than what could be considered chaste.

Beneath everything was emotion, some his, some Yuu's, some another person's entirely, whorling around and reigniting flames from coals nearly extinguished by illness. Lavi made a humming noise, smiling against his lover's mouth as he reached his aching hands into Yuu's hair, but though he intended to bend them, to knead that one exact _spot_ between the ever-present scars, he could not.

Grunting angrily, tears of frustration at the corners of his eyes--he would not let them fall, he would not cry now--he barely noticed the fingers wrapping firmly around his wrists.

"You don't have to," the Japanese man said quietly, searching his eyes before bringing their lips back together. Lavi shook his head, one of his damned tears flying down his cheek and pooling below his ear. Releasing Lavi's wrists, Yuu silently, comfortingly, brought his hands to the redhead's eyes, both of which were weeping persistently against his will, and wiped away whatever moisture had gathered at the corners. It was a sweet movement, something Yuu had never done for him before, something he'd never needed done to him before.

It was almost weird to have someone to care for him like this. He'd never had it in his home as a child, and he'd definitely never had it with Bookman. He didn't know how to respond--his mind was so useless--so naturally, more tears began to fall. Trying to hide it, he inclined his head to kiss Yuu again. The touch of their lips was nothing like it usually was--there was no roughness. It was all smooth and soft and something Lavi really liked. Breathing in deeply, he angled his head a bit more, and then there was the tingle that sparked its way to his middle. And once again, his eyes betrayed him; he lay helplessly as a tear, which had traced its way down his face, slid down his neck into oblivion. The Japanese man only ran a hand through his hair, shifting it against his scalp before it sprung back to its erratic position. He brushed his thumb over Lavi's ear and then moved his entire hand to his cheek, where he lightly brushed the tear tracks away. His dark eyes showed concern; there was no annoyance to be seen.

"Why are you crying, _Baka Usagi_?" Yuu asked softly, returning his hand to its place in the redhead's hair.

Lavi blinked, another tear falling. Yuu brushed it away before it had reached the end of the apple of his cheek. He should not have been surprised that this man could show such care. The potential had been in him all along, though it had been hidden by pain and cruelty.

"Yuu... what if... what if I can't get my hands to work properly?" He blurted out, wondering where all the anxiety he was feeling had come from. Maybe it was in light of what he wasn't able to do for Yuu that he was suddenly able to realize just what his injury meant.

Yuu pulled him so that they were lying next to each other on their sides, face to face. His hands were still in Lavi's hair. He looked deeply into Lavi's eyes, as if trying to convey something, but all the redhead could see was melted butter. He nearly laughed. The Japanese man's eyes matched his voice. If only all the rampant emotions he'd been suppressing for months would stop attacking him... maybe then he could properly memorize the fluid pattern those charcoal-colored irises were taking.

"I seem to recall a time back when we were sixteen when you came back from a mission, and due to your idiocy, you had broken your leg. For weeks you were literally _begging_ me to spar with you so you could get back out there sooner. Where's that determination to get better?" Yuu asked in a slightly rougher tone.

"That determination was fake," he said.

" _Che._ So, what, are you going to give up just because it hurts?"

"Well, I had a purpose then, I had a reason to do that, even if the over-zealousness wasn't real."

"And you don't have one now? How about living a normal life?"

"But Yuu-chan, I can't do _anything_ without my hands. Hell, I can't even turn a doorknob!"

"Well then, we'll get doorknobs that you can push down." Yuu shrugged nonchalantly, as if this was an obvious fact that Lavi should have considered.

"Wh... what?" Lavi asked eloquently. He had absolutely no idea what Yuu was going on about.

"Well, when we're out of the hospital, we have to live somewhere, don't we? We'll just get cabinets and other things that are more accessible for you." The dark-haired man sounded like he was talking to the very, very dull, but Lavi thought he heard an undertone of something more serious, something... pained.

"But I still don't understand."

"Huh, so you really are that stupid after all. I promised you we would go to Japan together, didn't I? What did you think that meant?"

"That we were going to visit your Mother's grave in Japan. And that you love me?" He added hopefully at the end.

"Well what did you think we'd do after that? Just go our separate ways?" Yuu raised an eyebrow.

"No, well, I... I don't know. I've never thought about it." And it was true, he'd never considered a life outside of war and objectivity. His whole life he'd lived through war after war. He didn't remember anything other than pain and misery from before that. The thought of peace was foreign to him.

" _Che._ Why don't you think about it for a second. What do you want to do?" It seemed like such a simple request coming from the Japanese man, but as hard as Lavi tried, nothing came to mind.

"I-I don't know. Whatever you want to do, I guess."

Yuu scoffed again, this time with an almost exasperated sigh attached to the end. "That defeats the purpose of what _you_ want to do, idiot."

"But... but, there's no more war..." He argued lamely.

"Yes, and that means that you can live a normal life," Yuu added, and that was when Lavi finally figured out what was different.

"You're happy now. Is that what Mugen did for you?" He asked, not meaning for his tone to come out as accusingly as it did. Instantly, he knew he was right. Yuu's face was still too thin from the three months of only intravenous fluid for nourishment, even though so much time had passed since then, but everything about him seemed much more... _alive_. It was as if his entire aura had changed. Instead of a dark, swirling air of anger and dismissiveness, Yuu was giving off something distinctly _light_ and _radiant_. His skin was brighter, healthier than it had been (and though Lavi would never say anything about it, he assumed it was because the other man was finally getting a balanced diet), if a bit too yellow from the hue of his shirt. There was no longer a tightness around his eyes, and the negative emotions portrayed in them were replaced with only sparkling content.

"I told you, he was restarting me. He was breaking barriers that the Lotus had built to help me survive."

"So that's what you meant. I thought Mugen was just staying there to help you wake up." Lavi shrugged and then smiled genuinely. Because Yuu being happy meant he was happy, despite how weepy he'd been just moments before. Suddenly, he had to clarify it. What if he was wrong? What if Yuu had learned to act? "But you are, though, right? Happy, I mean."

The Japanese man grunted, a tiny frown pulling down at the corners of his lips. "Not as happy as I will be once we're out of here, but yes, I am, because now I don't have to fight for survival every day. I can live a normal, boring life."

It surprised Lavi somewhat that Yuu had been thinking about all this. But then, the man had been all alone in his mind for three months, two weeks, six days, twenty-three hours, forty-one minutes, and two seconds, so he must have had time to really decide what he was going to do once he awoke. The redhead could do nothing more than gape, though, his mind barely processing what the man had just said. "Wow, I just... I never thought about it that way, I mean, when I woke up and you weren't there, I guess I just decided that I'd never experience that."

"I wasn't there?"

Lavi was surprised the man hadn't been aware of that fact.

"I was in the low immune system ward for a couple months. Back when I was really sick and no one would tell me what was wrong with you."

It was the first time in his life that Lavi had ever seen Yuu gape. But the expression was real, uncomposed. The Japanese man's eyes were wide, lightening in his shock, and his mouth was hanging open in the most undignified manner. It was as if the man had not realized they'd spent any time apart, as if he had assumed they'd been together from day one. "What?" He asked hoarsely.

"Well, of course. You woulda gotten me sick."

"You thought I was dead?"

It wasn't really a question, it was more like the dark-haired man was confirming something to himself, putting something together in his head that had not made sense until this conversation.

"Well, yeah, I mean, you weren't with me, so of course I thought..." Lavi said, trailing off at the end. They both knew what he thought, and they both knew how he had reacted. It was obvious. After all, hadn't Yuu reacted the same when he'd thought the redhead had killed himself?

"But I'm here now, so you don't have to worry about it anymore. You can think about the future because you have one."

"But you... could disappear again... you could go back to sleep and not wake up again! Coma patients do that, I keep thinking that when you fall asleep I'm never gonna see you again."

He was suddenly overcome with the urge to make sure Yuu was still there next to him. He pulled the Japanese man into his chest, not caring about the startled grunt or if it annoyed the other. And to the redhead's surprise, Yuu didn't push him away or scoff at him, he actually returned Lavi's embrace.

" _Baka_ , I told you that I was only in the coma because of Mugen. Now that it's gone, I don't need to be unconscious anymore. I'm not going to leave you."

They stayed like that for a few moments. Lavi breathing in the scent of his lover's hair, even though it smelled of industrial soap instead of lotuses and cinnamon.

"So, Yuu, where are we going to go after we get to Japan?"

"Well, I don't even know where she is buried, or whether she is even buried under the Kanda name. I don't know if the cemetery even exists anymore."

"Well, here, what part of Japan did you come from?" Lavi asked, pulling out the laptop the Coalition had given him.

"Outside of Edo, more toward the countryside so I don't think it was destroyed when the Earl leveled the city."

Lavi searched for old cemeteries near Tokyo and found only three. All with multiple listings for the surname Kanda. 

"I've got three results, none too far apart, so we can take our time and search though all of them."

"Good."

Yuu didn't need to say more, nor did Lavi need him to continue. Instead, the redhead set his laptop on the table at the foot of the bed, closing the top to conserve energy. He smiled at his lover and sat back next to him. The dark-haired man got the message and pulled Lavi into his arms.

Lavi liked moments like these, the moments that lasted forever. It was moments like these that Lavi realized he had a future.

oooo

_August 10, 2014-- Hospital in London_

Yuu was acting suspicious. The man had come in the night before with a suspiciously satisfied smirk on his face, and if Lavi hadn't seen the dancing happiness in the man's eyes, he wouldn't have believed it possible. It almost looked as if the Japanese man was suppressing a genuine smile.

He'd looked like the Cheshire cat incarnate itself when he'd gone down to physical therapy, walking more steadily than he had in the previous four days. Sighing, Lavi lay down on Yuu's bed and threw the covers over his legs. He was tired, and a bit of a nap would probably help him figure out exactly what the Japanese man was planning--

The door crashed open. Cracking his good eye enough to see the fuzzy forms of Allen, Lenalee, Amanda, Miranda, and Lolek stream in like a never-ending train of sleep-deprivedness, Lavi decided feigning unconsciousness would be the best route.

"Oh, look, he's sleeping," Amanda said in a stage-whisper, laughter in her voice. It was a strange thing to hear, given that every visit prior to this one had been an example of just how miserable the American girl really was. Still, she sounded better, though Lavi knew that was no indication to how one actually felt.

"Oh, that's a shame," Lenalee's voice said, clear and crystal just like always. "He'll miss all the cake, then."

Lavi sat bolt upright in the bed. "Cake?" He asked, looking around expectantly. He was never one to miss out on free cake.

"Happy Birthday, Lavi!" Amanda exclaimed, throwing her arms around his shoulders and squeezing with all her strength.

He paused in his attempt to extricate himself from the American girl's bear hug.

"It's my birthday?" He'd lost track of time, apparently, something he didn't often do.

"Of course, Lavi, why else would there be cake?" A very pregnant Miranda exclaimed at the foot of his bed. Adding up the months quickly in his head, Lavi realized the German woman was just a few days over seven months.

"Because you're fat?" Lavi tried innocently, batting his eyes. Three decidedly female hands hit him right in the face, but he managed a wink as his head fell back into the pillow. Raising his still aching hands, Lavi grinned widely and laughed. "Just kidding, just kidding, Miranda, you're a beautiful lady, made ever more radiant by the wonderful miracle of childbearing."

The brunette didn't look appeased, but she did back down when Lolek put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I think the birthday boy's just a bit grumpy because he feels inferior. Womb envy, they call it," Lolek countered, his tone light and airy, like a rustling breeze on a spring morning.

Lavi scowled, knowing he deserved it, and stuck out his tongue. "Can't argue with that," he said finally. "Cake time?"

Lenalee sighed and rolled her eyes, obviously exasperated. "You're such a man, Lavi. Think with something besides your stomach."

"Yuu time?" Lavi asked jokingly.

Amanda snorted, though Lenalee was far from amused.

The cake was cut, and though Lenalee thought they should have waited for Yuu, Lavi knew the Japanese man wouldn't care. He would have scoffed and said something along the lines of 'I don't eat sweets.' It was all a moot point to Lavi, because that just meant more cake for himself.

As Lavi put down his plate to alleviate the pain in his hands, he noticed that Amanda was pulling something from her backpack. It was colorfully wrapped and had a large, ornate bow on top of its rectangular surface.

She smiled widely, and fakely, and handed the box over to him with a "happy birthday, slut."

"Thanks, whore!" He responded in kind.

Tearing at the paper as much as his hands would allow, he eventually worked the large gift free. It was a set of pastel blue towels. Both monogrammed with _His_.

"Are you _serious?_ " Allen asked.

Amanda nodded shortly and gave him another of her outrageous smiles, which Lavi had the sneaking suspicion was one the few real ones she'd given in the past few months. 

"Thanks, Amanda" Lavi said shakily, not exactly sure how to respond, as he placed the towels at the foot of his bed and took the package Lenalee was handing him.

He opened the impeccably wrapped gift, recognizing the electronic jargon immediately. 

"I figured that since you two will be out in the real world, you'd need some way to contact each other." Lenalee explained as Lavi examined the two cell phones. She had known that theirs had been destroyed in the weeks leading up to the final battle, which had everything to do with Yuu throwing them out the window of their room in the Ark after Amanda had texted him twenty-seven times in a half an hour and when he didn't respond had taken to Lavi's. He'd mumbled something about "annoying things should join your ugly carpet."

Lavi smiled at Lenalee, hoping that his gratitude was expressed and knowing it was because of the way her eyes softened and she returned the expression. 

His expression was soon dropped as Lolek plopped a rather heavy and square package right on his groin. He let out a rather un-manly sound. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think you could feel it because you're so fat," the Pole growled. Miranda giggled in the background.

"Oh, yes, I'm so fat, look at all of it." He tried to squeeze the flesh on his arm, but there was no flab to be seen. He really did need to gain weight. That meant more cake.

He ignored the throbbing pain and opened the large gift, surprised to see a set of plates and bowls. Now he felt bad for insulting Miranda, she really did look as most people would say, "glowing," and it was an extremely thoughtful gift. 

"Thanks," he whispered in an apologetic tone, and Miranda smiled at him in a way that told him all was forgiven.

The door opened again and Yuu swaggered in, his expression only slightly fatigued. He looked oddly satisfied with himself, and the glint in his eyes made Lavi feel like he was missing something huge. The Japanese man took in the surroundings, smirking all the while, before taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

"Oh, Yuu-kun, you're back!" Lenalee exclaimed, rushing over to his side to give the man a hug. When she pulled away, he looked kind of rumpled, but Lavi took it as a good sign that he was able to endure--and perhaps even enjoy--touches from others. It was an encouraging sign, like maybe Yuu was finally starting to see that he didn't need to fear others.

Perhaps the redhead should follow his lover's example. But the Bookman-drilled paranoia would probably take much longer to eradicate completely.

"So, Yuu-kun, what did you get Lavi for his birthday?" The Chinese woman asked sweetly as she discreetly squeezed Yuu's hand.

"Nothing. He doesn't deserve a gift," Yuu responded evenly. Lavi's face dropped from an expecting smile to a contemplative frown. Yes, Yuu was angry with him that he hadn't tried harder with his hands and would probably never regain complete mobility because of that, but he wouldn't ignore the redhead's birthday just to drive home a point. Yes, there had to be an angle, something Lavi wasn't considering, something larger or perhaps more private that the Japanese man didn't want others to see.

Or maybe he just didn't want to seem weak in front of everyone else.

Lenalee slapped his shoulder lightly. Her strike might have been harder, but she knew just how hard it still was for Yuu to stay upright, even if he didn't broadcast that fact. He buckled slightly under the pressure anyway, but his face remained composed, with only the slightest hint of a scowl.

"That's not very nice!" She scolded. Yuu didn't look the least bit affected.

"Yeah, Yuu-pyon, be nice to your lover!" Amanda exclaimed running over to Lavi and grabbing his shoulders in a show of support. "'Cause I said so!"

"Don't call me that," Yuu growled. Lavi snorted and leaned over to drag his lover back into his chest. He shifted in a disgruntled fashion as the conversation picked up around them.

They talked for an hour or two more before Miranda rocked back and forth a bit and mumbled something to Lolek, who nodded and announced they were late for an obstetrician appointment. They walked out in a bustle, and Lavi noticed how uncomfortable Amanda seemed to become. A few minutes later, Allen and Lenalee opened the Ark and went to meet with a caterer for their wedding, leaving just Yuu, Lavi, and the American girl.

"I'll--I'll just go," she said awkwardly, half-sprinting to the door in her haste to leave what must have been a hard situation for her to handle. In the past couple of months, she'd called Lavi often, and was usually at his side after she left school. More often than not, she was crying. The redhead understood, to a degree, that she didn't handle loss well, and being parted from Darcy was hitting her almost as bad as her lingering depression over Artemis's death. He also knew that she'd been coming less and less since Yuu had awoken, obviously uncomfortable with the loving atmosphere Sarah said they gave off.

When the door shut, Yuu extricated himself from Lavi's grasp, something the redhead couldn't really complain about, since the man turned to face him instead, keeping their bodies in close proximity.

"You really didn't get me anythin'?" Lavi asked.

" _Baka Usagi_."

That didn't really answer his question, so he rephrased it. Yuu scoffed.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'd really prefer to get out of here."

The redhead gaped. "You can't just leave! You have to get the doctor's approval and--" he cut himself off, because the dark-haired man was laughing quietly.

"They discharged me last night," Yuu finally said. A strong, euphoric emotion bloomed somewhere in the pit of Lavi's stomach and began to spread like a chain reaction throughout the rest of his body. He didn't even realize he was smiling until his lover hit him lightly and scolded him for "making an idiotic expression." Yuu's scowl was back, but it somehow retained the Japanese man's own happiness.

Quickly, Lavi gathered all the books that had spread out over the entire half of the room--the other side since reoccupied by a snot-nosed little brat who thought he was the shit. And who mimed vomiting every time he was in the room--which wasn't often, as the boy spent most of his days down the hall visiting with other kids his age--and the redhead and his lover were "embracing" (Yuu still wouldn't call it snuggling) or flirting (well, mock-fighting) with one another. Stupid immature little twelve-year-old.

As they stepped out of the room, Yuu put up a hand and walked over to their nurse, who must have been reassigned, because Lavi hadn't seen her all day. With his keen ears, the redhead was able to make out most of their conversation.

The petite brunette gave him a small smile and put down the clipboard she was carrying.

"Leaving so soon? Ah, well, can't be helped. I hope you have a good life and that I never see you again," she said with all the happiness in the world in her voice. "That's my way of saying be safe and don't put yourself in another coma." 

Lavi couldn't help but chuckle at Yuu's surprised expression, but he swallowed it when Yuu gave the nurse a small smile of his own. It was a calm smile, one he'd never directed toward anyone except Lenalee and himself. 

"You know... you really helped me out a lot, even though I'm the nurse. I'm moving in with my brother next week, so I'll be safe until I find an apartment of my own. Er, I know you don't really want to hear this, but again, thanks a lot."

Yuu had turned away from Lavi so that the redhead couldn't read the dark-haired man's facial expressions, but he could tell that the other man was embarrassed, as well as grateful, and maybe even a little relieved. 

Then in a classic Yuu-chan style, he turned his head to the side and mumbled gruffly under his breath, "I trust you."

As he turned to leave, Claire grabbed his arm, stuffing a small white piece of paper into his hand.

"If you need anything, just call." With a final nod, she turned, grabbed her clipboard, and strode down the hall.

Yuu returned to Lavi's side and grabbed his hand. Together, they walked out of the hospital. Once outside, they opened a door to the Ark and followed the hall of doorways down until they found one labeled _Tokyo, Japan_. Still holding hands, they walked through, hopefully to begin their new life.


	5. Bittersweet

Chapter 5--Bittersweet

__February 16, 2014--Hospital in London

His eyes drooped and fell closed, but he had to stay awake so that he wouldn't fall over. His arm around Lenalee's back was the only thing keeping him anything close to conscious, and he couldn't afford to fall asleep just yet. Coffee and fear mingled with hope had been barely enough to sustain him during Lavi's epically long surgery, but now, without any outward stimulation except the Chinese woman's shaking shoulders and tear-drenched cheeks, it was nearly impossible.

When was the last time Allen had slept? Had it been the night of the thirteenth? It felt like so very long ago, like a different era. It hadn't been days that had passed, had it? It had to be weeks, months, maybe years, millennia. Because he was _so_ tired and just _couldn't_ concentrate. And damn, his eyes were falling again, holding them open was like fighting against the weight of time itself, so heavy, so heavy...

His chin fell to his chest, pulling him with a gasp from his almost-sleep. Lenalee still needed him.

_He may never wake up._

Allen hated to admit it, but he didn't want Kanda to die, didn't want him to remain comatose for the remainder of his years. It wouldn't fare well for Lavi, but more importantly, it would hurt Lenalee. And if there was one thing he hated, it was hurting the Chinese woman. _His_ woman, he wanted to say, but no, now was not the time to confront that topic yet. She was still emotionally overwrought and as tired as him. They both needed sleep, but since she had been barred from Lavi's room--he was in the ICU, recovering from his surgery, and would be moved to the low immune system ward in a day or two. They wouldn't be allowed to see him until his body could fight all the toxins they carried.

So, naturally, Lenalee had migrated to Kanda's room, and the first thing she'd done was attach herself to his hand and begin to _cry_ , which was such a heart-wrenching sight that Allen wanted to kill the man. But he didn't even have the heart for such thoughts because his eyes, damn them, were drooping _again!_

And besides, Kanda's hair was really funny, with all but a few locks cut down, some bits shaven completely--though Allen couldn't see it from this angle--in the back. The doctors had needed to examine his head, stop the bleeding. Allen almost had to chuckle at how _angry_ the Japanese man would be when he woke up.

When. Because he was going to wake up.

Because he was Kanda, and the man was a stubborn son of a bitch who would rest at nothing to get the last word against the British boy.

"He'll wake up, Lenalee," Allen said, fatigue showing in his voice.

"How do you know?" She asked tearfully. Allen shook his head--not disagreeing with her, he just wanted to clear his mind a bit, maybe get rid of the cobwebs of exhaustion--and leaned on Lenalee's shoulder. He had lost the battle against his eyes, and maybe if he could just...

NO!

He had to stay awake!

"He's Kanda," Allen said, _so tired, so tired..._ That was all that was needed for explanation, _just lay your head down and close your eyes..._

Lenalee sniffed heartily. The white-haired boy figured that was all he was going to get in way of agreement at the moment.

"We should get some rest. It's three in the morning, Lenalee. We can start again when we wake up."

Thankfully, the Chinese woman nodded, and with an almost regretful squeeze of Kanda's hand, whispered, "we'll be back soon, Yuu-kun."

_Sleep._

\---

Amanda stood as the doctor dressed her wounds. After a few tests, he'd concluded that there was no internal damage, despite the blood she'd coughed up during the battle. It had taken him quite some time to disinfect her still weeping burns and even longer to clean out all her cuts and scrapes. She'd hurt worse before, but never was it so all-encompassing. Her face throbbed the worse, bled in places where the burn was most livid. Darcy had not quite managed to stop the Akuma's acid from hitter her during the battle. Most of it had hit her face, but she was now aware that it had hit many other places as well. In addition to the scar she would inevitably have on her face, she would also bear a few on her chest, neck, shoulders, and hands. She still could not see out of her right eye.

"Alright, I think we're all done here," her doctor said. He was young and kind of hot, with brown eyes and hair the color of dark roast coffee, which she thought would probably be best for her now--how long had she been awake?

Amanda stared down at herself. Almost entirely covered in a thin layer of bandages. There was a patch over her right eye to keep out the germs, and they promised her a specialist as soon as they could get one in. There was a long slice along that side of her face as well, though a few stitches had handled that. All that was left was the "eye guy," as her doctor had put it.

"Thanks, doc," she said.

"You're done?" Asked Darcy. He was on the other side of the curtain, being treated for much more severe burns.

"Yeah," Amanda said as the doctor took his leave. "How are you holding up?"

"Alright, though I wish the doc would stop _touching me there_." He said the last bit with gritted teeth. Amanda laughed.

"Poor baby. When you're all done, how about I go grab us both some coffee?"

"Nah, I wanna sleep."

"Can you?" It was a valid point. Even with all the pain medication they were both being issued, there was still quite a lot of pain and soreness not being completely covered. Sleep would come with time, but for now, Amanda just wanted a nice twelve-ounce, non-biodegradable Styrofoam cup of coffee to warm her uninjured left hand. It didn't even need to be caffeinated--just something warm to drink, something familiar and comforting. It reminded her of those early mornings before missions with her and Artemis, how they'd run into the kitchen and go directly to the tubs of coffee. Double-shot hazelnut latte for Artemis, dark roast as black as possible for Amanda. It was how her parents had it, and it was the only way Amanda could stand the taste. Anything else was too sweet. Surprising, considering gum drops were some of her favorite candies.

"You're right. Fine." The man sighed and then made a pained squeak. "Don't _poke_ that!"

It took some time for Darcy's doctor to finish up with him, seeing as his burns were much more extensive. Nearly his entire chest was second degree or worse, though his back had been mercifully spared. Stupid hero action. Amanda would have taken the injury all for her own. But she wouldn't say she wasn't flattered. She smiled a little. When at last they were finished, she shuffled from the room--walking quickly hurt, especially as she'd twisted her ankle somewhere along the line. It was not hard to find the coffee machine, and she quickly slipped some money (found at the bottom of her shoe) into it.

"Hey, Amanda," Lenalee said, walking up. Her eyes were droopy and bloodshot, as if someone had slipped a little extra something into her drink.

"Hey. You look terrible."

The Chinese girl sniffed, one of those sniffs of the perpetually ill, with the intense movement of snot.

"It's okay, though. Look--just a flesh wound." She offered her bandaged hand as proof. Lenalee giggled, though Amanda was pretty sure she didn't get the reference. "And Darce isn't too bad off, and well, Tama-chan'll fix right up. Most of us survived, yeah?"

Lenalee looked away.

"Want a coffee?"

"That'd be nice."

"Here, take mine."

Fishing more money out of her shoe, Amanda fed it to the machine and turned to face Lenalee. "How is Yuu-san?"

"Still unconscious."

"Well, don't worry about him. Once Lavi's up and shakin', he'll bop 'im real good and tell him to get his lazy ass awake and out of bed."

Lenalee smiled. "Yeah..."

"Go take that to Allen. He can stay awake--you go rest."

"Only if you do."

"How bad are the bags under my eyes?"

"Terrible."

"You should talk." Amanda giggled, brought her hand to Lenalee's shoulder. "The worst is over now, I think. We'll all pull through. And we'll replace those who didn't with babies, yeah?"

Lenalee laughed but turned away. The machine stopped rumbling as it finished Amanda's coffee, and the American girl watched only a brief moment as her friend retreated down the hallway. Amanda followed suit, ducking into Darcy's room. He was sitting on the flimsy bed, which resembled a house of cards in regards to stability. A bit of the foam mattress was poking out from a hole in the thin sheets. An older doctor was tending to him, poking Darcy's back with a pair of tweezers. Every so often, he brought the instrument to drop something into the gauze in his other hand.

"I'm very sorry about Dr. Eleison. She's just an intern, so it is not surprising she missed something. She just began this rotation a few days ago. Thank you for letting us know," the doctor said. He smiled as he spoke, but his squinting eyes never left Darcy's back.

"Are you okay, Mr. Darcy?" Amanda asked, coming over.

"Just fine," he replied.

"Uh-huh..." Oh, sarcasm. A time-honored friend.

Amanda sipped her coffee. Each time debris was removed from Darcy's back, it clinked into the pile. The doctor hummed when he concentrated hard, and Darcy gasped quite often. She offered him a sip of coffee, but he grimaced because it was going cold. She finished it anyway.

A nurse hovered at the door. "We need you in 246. That other Exorcist guy just came to."

"I'll be back when I can. If not, I'll have someone else come in and finish up. Try not to move too much." The doctor put the tweezers and the gauze on the metal stand beside him, pushing the rolling stool back as he did. When he stood, he grunted in a way that reminded Amanda of her grandfather after one of his long naps in his favorite chair.

The door closed behind them, leaving them alone for the first time since their romp before the fourteenth. At first all was quiet, the room stifling as a sauna in mid-August.

"Hey, Amanda?" Darcy said finally.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think your mom would approve of me?"

For a moment, Amanda floundered. With Darcy, you never quite knew what to expect in regards to strange queries, but this one was the winner of the random ribbon that rippled in the wind above the random flag, which was at the top of the World Trade Center-sized random skyscraper.

"No, she wouldn't."

"Because I'm so much--"

"Irish. You're Catholic. She's Presbyterian. She married an _Anglican_."

Darcy sighed.

"Religious issues aside, would she approve of me?"

"No," Amanda said.

"And why not?"

"Darcy, we've talked about this ad nauseam, okay? Listen, I know what I'm doing--hell, I've been age of consent this entire time!"

"It's statutory rape!"

"Then we won't have sex! Hell, we could say to my parents that we're waiting until I'm eighteen--it's only a year off, and yeah, sex and kissing is great, but I'd rather be chaste than not anything at all."

"Listen, I'm too old, you're too young. There's no in between, not that your parents will see, not that the law will see."

"The Coalition said they were giving us diplomatic immunity."

"Not against the opinions of society. And that immunity can be revoked."

"Darcy, _please_."

"Don't plead. It's pathetic."

"Yeah, well, listen to _you_." Tears started falling down her face. Darcy lifted a hand, probably to wipe them away, but he caught himself. He shook his head, flinched when the movement caused something in his back to tug at the already torn and burned skin.

"I've given this a lot of thought. I don't want to be the kind of guy who limits you. What we had was good while we were in the Order, but you said you want to finish High School, go to college. I'd like to get some education too, honestly, but that sounds like a lot of long distance and a lot of social pressure. For us both, but mostly for you. We're not practical in the real world. The age difference is huge at this point, and if you're anchored down by me, you won't reach your potential."

"I'll reach my potential just fine." She wasn't looking at him, didn't want to look at him.

"And what if you find a boy your age who you like? Hm?"

"Then I'll break up with you and date him. Not that that would happen--"

"I'm not gonna do a badly-written romance novel and tell you I don't love you and you should fuck off because of that. You know I love you. But there's gonna be a lot of changes once we're out of the hospital. We'll be apart--"

"There's always the Ark," Amanda muttered. Darcy ignored her and plowed on.

"--and we'll both be making new friends and learning new things. We're going to change, regardless, and I don't much fancy having your entire family hate me. Call me a coward--I know you're thinking it--but I don't want to see this relationship fall apart. And believe me, Amanda, it will."

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't, but I think it will. You forget, I _am_ older than you. By quite a bit. I'm still young too, but I've got more life experience than you. You know the world better than any other sixteen-year-old I know, but I know it better than you, and I saw this happen to my aunt and uncle. Being apart is harder than you would think. Even with the Ark. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry." His voice caught on the last word. Amanda looked back at him and realized he was crying too.

"You're a bastard, Darcy," Amanda said.

"I know," he whispered. Amanda turned on her heel because she wasn't entirely sure what she was feeling, but she was positive that her world was caving in on her. She needed Artemis.

The tears came harder because she knew that was no longer a possibility. "God _dammit_!" She growled, and her burnt wrist wailed out and struck the wall. The explosion of pain was nothing like the implosion in her chest, where all the good feelings passed easily through the event horizon that was her heart. She was left with only blackness, only bitterness and sadness. Lenalee had her own issues to work through, and while she loved Road, Amanda didn't think she could pour her heart out to someone she had until very recently hated with every ounce of emotion she could spare. And Emiko was still here, waiting for status reports on all his friends, clutching something so tightly in his hand it was making his knuckles go white.

She decided to go cry on Lavi. He was out, so she could let herself go. He'd be the most sympathetic ear she would get for quite some time.

\---

_February 17, 2014--Hospital in London_

They'd found sleeping quarters in a small closet on a tiny hospital bed, but they'd made the best of it, and despite a few kinks in his neck, Allen felt somewhat rested when the door was flung open by a panicked-looking intern.

"Have you seen Dr. Valkov?" She asked hurriedly, her voice high with fear and urgency. Allen shook his head sleepily but got up. The girl scampered off, not bothering to close the door behind her.

"Let's get breakfast, Lenalee." He suggested, even though he wasn't hungry he knew she was. 

They left the small room and began to make their way down to the cafeteria. Before they made it though, they were passed by Cyrah. 

"They are going to take Tuan off of life-support. Emiko is already there." She didn't wait to see if they were following, merely striding off. 

Lenalee looked at Allen and they both knew they were going. Chu-chan had become a good friend from the very first time they had met. 

Tuan's room was at the far corner of the hospital. It seemed darker than any room had a right to, with only a single light above the bed. Emiko was seated next to the man, gazing almost unseeingly as her best friend.

It struck Allen that something seemed to have changed about the Japanese woman. She seemed as if there was a large weight resting on her too-broad shoulders. 

"Emiko, are we ready?" Cyrah asked softly, almost tenderly, if such a thing was possible.

"Don't call me that, Cyrah. I'm not that anymore," Emiko said lowly, in an almost manly voice.

Cryah's face flickered briefly to shock but she soon composed herself and nodded, "Sasaki, then." 

They all waited in the small room for a doctor to arrive. Another moment later, a priest arrived to say his last rites, though everyone knew, whether they believed in such a thing or not, that the man was destined for Heaven, was already _in_ Heaven. When the doctor finally saw fit to walk in, the room had settled into an all too familiar sobriety. The process was simple, a tiny switch being depressed and the equipment stopped its churning, the monitor blinked and the beeps became erratic and then ceased altogether.

No one cried for him. There was no need, the man had been dead the moment Vikram had taken the man's soul with him. No one regretted this moment. 

Emiko... or Sasaki, whoever the Japanese Exorcist was now, was the first to leave. Patting Tuan's shoulder, standing up, and walking from the room. Somewhere in Allen's tired, beaten mind, he wondered if the deaths of her two closest friends was the thing that had made Sasaki change. 

Allen himself was surprised the rumors about Emiko being a guy were true. But Lenalee's voice in his head confirming what he had just concluded was more than enough evidence in his book. 

Cyrah walked over to Chu-chan's body, standing tall and proud as always. She leaned over and kissed the man's forehead, ruffling the short hair around his hairline, almost motherly in the process. She left without a word, the same as Sasaki had. 

Lenalee seemed to be frozen in place, fixed in her mind by her grief. 

"Hey, Lenalee, let's go visit Amanda. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you." Allen suggested hoping to break the dark-haired woman's spell. 

It did, and they walked silently from the room, Allen sparing only a final glance at his friend, and shifted planes into the Ark, headed towards Amanda's room. The American girl was crying. After a tearful explanation, Allen had a feeling that the tears would not stop for a long time, though perhaps she would be able to recover. The white-haired man fervently hoped so. 

\---

Lolek detested slings. They made things... inefficient. And if you swung the sling in any direction at all, your arm would immediately remind you that yes, it was broken. However, he put his hatred aside as he came to a stop outside the exam room's door. He took a deep breath, tried to push the pain to the back of his mind. He affixed a smile on his face.

"Alright, Lolek, let's do this," he said to himself. Then he opened the door and walked in. Miranda was at the far end of the room. The curtain--white with a descending pattern of bleached-off bloodstains--could do little to hide her voluminous hair. It was untamed and greasy, but it poked out from the gap between the curtain pole and the wall.

"Miranda," he said, walking up to her. She smiled at him as he pulled the curtain back. Her face was far short of radiant, covered in bruises and dirt. Small cuts peppered her skin with crimson accents. Fresh white bandages covered her right arm, bulky around her wrist where her Innocence once rested.

"You're alright," she said. Still she smiled. There was no doctor in the room, no nurse checking vitals or assessing her well-being.

"You look better than me."

"I suppose you are right." She shifted so that she was sitting more upright. The pillow bunched up at the small of her back. Lolek could almost hear its high-pitched calls for help. "Though it's your doing of course."

"Yes, well, I protect my women," he said. Trying to control the fall of his sling (which failed), Lolek leaned down to give her a hug. Her arms tightened like vices around his back. Lolek's throat closed up, and he made an unintentional noise of discontent.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry!" Miranda said. Her voice had risen at least an octave, and her hands were at her sides before Lolek could even register the difference.

"It's--it's okay," he said, raising a hand to calm her brigade of apologies. "Just... I've got quite a few bruises, especially along my back and chest. The Akuma were unrelenting."

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you alright?"

"Yes, just fine. The doctors put some nasty goop on me, and I'll be back in here a few days from now to get my cast on. But, be gentle, okay?"

"Of course. I am so--"

"If you say it, I'll call the nurse and have her take out your spleen."

Miranda paled. "They do that?"

Lolek nodded in a way he hoped was solemn. "Yes."

"That's terrible!" She clamped her mouth shut with her left hand. "Lolek?" She asked after a moment.

"Yes?"

"What is a spleen?"

Lolek was so shocked that he laughed. His lips tugged up into a smile. Without regard for pain, he took her in his arms (a difficult task, what with getting around the sling and all) and pulled her up so that her head could rest on his shoulder. She scrambled for a moment and ended up on her knees. "It's nothing, dear, just an organ by your stomach. It's what recycles your blood cells."

"Oh. Sorry for asking."

He patted her rather harshly on the top of the head. "No apologizing, what have I said?"

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. He laughed in her ear, a quiet chuckle that was meant only for her, and kissed her neck before leaning back a little to see her better. She looked so tired. Highly exaggerated bags hung under her eyes, worse than any Lolek had seen on his comrades. Ever. It was probably the effect of keeping the Time Bubble up for so long.

A nurse entered the room. His eyes were bright and free of laugh lines. He had a large mouth that seemed to be stuck in smile mode. He couldn't have been out of his twenties yet.

"The results of your tests are all in. Nothing is wrong with you, other than some mild anemia and hypoglycemia. I'd suggest a meal and then some sleep. Also, Miss Lotto, we have some other news for you. It's a little serious, so if your friend would please step out for a moment?"

Lolek made to leave, a little prickle of worry sweat teeming at his brow.

"No, he'll stay. What's wrong?" She tightened her arms around his waist. Lolek tried not to hiss. He had many bruises there thanks to those damned suckers on that one tentacled Akuma.

"Are you sure, Miss? This is very serious, and you may not want him to hear it from me."

What, does she have cancer? Lolek thought, scowling inside.

"It's fine. Go ahead." She kissed Lolek's cheek.

"Alright, ma'am. Well, because of your claims regarding going to the x-ray lab, we did the test you asked for, and it's positive. Congratulations. You're pregnant."

"What?" Lolek said. His left arm flailed and throbbed as he pulled back to hold Miranda at arms' length. "Ow!"

"Don't hurt yourself!" Miranda exclaimed. "And Charlie told me. I just wanted to make sure."

"But what about... the... the..."

"It's fine, Lolek," Miranda said, and pulled away so that he could right himself. His arm was throbbing and his brain had gone entirely blank. "I was the one who disposed of it. It had a leak, but I figured it wasn't a big deal."

"Not a... not a big deal?"

"You sound... disappointed."

"No! No! I'm not!" He reached out with his right hand and caressed her face. "No, I'm not. I'm just very, very shocked. Because most women are on birth control. It didn't even _occur_ to me that you might... but it's alright! I'd love to be pregnant with--I mean, have a baby with you." His face was flushed, so he looked away. Everything was coming out all wrong. He was confused.

Miranda didn't say anything, just smiled. After a moment or two, she sat back down on the gurney and began talking to the nurse. Lolek couldn't concentrate on the conversation, though. The only thing he could think was "baby." The word repeated back and forth across his head, a parody of Echo's debacle one million times over.

When the nurse left, he turned back to Miranda, and quite without thought, he asked, "Miranda, will you marry me?"

"Eh?" She asked, looking at him with eyes wide as dinner plates and mouth slightly agape.

"Marry me, please?" He asked again, this time kneeling down so that he was the one looking up. 

 

" _Wirk-_ I-I mean really? You want to marry me?" Her voice was so disbelieving that it almost hurt.

 

"Of course! I love you, and I want to show you that I'm not going to leave." He took one of her hands in his and squeezed gently.

 

The dark-haired woman looked away for a moment, some unknown emotion flashing briefly in her eyes, but Lolek had seen that expression before. 

 

"So, you actually want to, and this isn't just because I'm pregnant?" Her eyes were watering, so his hypothesis had been correct. 

 

"I'm not just doing this because of the baby. This wasn't a mistake of yours. No one's to blame. Now don't cry, you. You should be happy. Shh, don't cry," he whispered to her as he wiped a tear off her cheek. 

 

"You're an idiot." She exclaimed. He was so shocked that he nearly lost his balance. "I'm going to cause you nothing but trouble. And think, there's going to be another one with my blood. It's going to be just as clumsy!"

 

Chuckling a little, Lolek simply ruffled her hair. "Yes, but it will have mine as well, so it should balance out and once it does, it'll only have the good attributes. So cheer up, don't think you'll be able to get rid of me that easy." 

 

Miranda nodded, but he could tell she still needed more convincing. 

 

"Besides, I've already got it all planned out. A nice house outside of Konstanz, near the lake. Just the three of us. Or maybe four, if you don't mind another little critter. Eventually. Not now. And besides, it isn't like I wasn't thinking about asking you. I was going to, but after we were both out of the hospital and I had you alone. Look at me, please? What do you say?" He was getting kind of nervous now. She still wasn't looking at him completely. 

But then she smiled. 

 

"You're right, I'm just being my same old gloomy self again. But you're sure you won't get fed up of always having to catch me when I trip?" He lifted up the hand that he was still holding and brought it to his lips. 

 

"Of course not, it makes life exciting. I'll do it every day for the rest of my life if I get the chance. I love you, and I'll be there to make sure that you don't fall anymore. That's my job, after all." 

 

Her smile widened and she finally looked at him. She didn't say anything for a second, merely stared at him. He must have looked ridiculous with his face bright red, it felt like the back of his neck was on fire. But it had needed to be said. He would look after her for as long as he could, no matter what. 

 

The force of her arms going around his neck nearly knocked him on his butt, but he managed to rebalance in time to keep them both off the floor. He felt warm tears on his shoulder. 

 

"I love you too, Lolek. I will marry you, and I'll go with you to that house in Konstanz and we'll raise our children there, and I won't break any more plates or glasses or windows because you'll make sure I'm not an idiot and try and carry too much at one time or take the stairs too fast and trip over myself. I'll be useful and we'll be happy!" She sobbed into him for a little while before regaining her composure. 

 

"I'm sorry." She sniffed as she pulled away.

 

"Oi, what did I say about saying that?" He mockingly threatened.

 

"I loves you, too, Lolek." Miranda giggled, squeezing his hand a little. He winced because he had a large bruise on his palm. She apologized.

"I will never break you of that habit, will I?" He asked.

"I'm sorry," she said, and they laughed together.

\---

_February 18, 2014--London, England--The Plaza beneath the Millennium Wheel_

The small crowd that had gathered at the base of the London Eye was somber, the chipped stone under their feet a solemn reminder of exactly what had happened only a few days ago. It just didn't seem real to the five Exorcists that stood upon the small, quickly put together stage that was the center of attention. The President of the United States and even Her Majesty the Queen of England were there, sitting secure among their men in black. They were the only leaders that could make the hasty ceremony. The reporters' quiet roar in the background were somehow befitting of the once battlefield. It didn't seem right, the fact that only five of them were able to come to this memorial dedication.

They were here to remember the innumerable lives lost in the past year, as well as all those who gave their lives throughout the centuries. Of course, there would never be enough time to read off all the names. It would take years, decades even, but even so, the temporary monument that had been erected was only the beginning of that mission. All those soldiers and civilians who had died those four days ago and those whose sorrow had brought them their deaths at the hands of the Earl would most likely never be counted. On that one day alone, the numbers had been mind-boggling. Allen still couldn't wrap his mind around such an unbelievable number. When he'd first heard it spoken, he had wondered if there were that many people in the world. 

Her Majesty spoke in a soft, unwavering alto, and only silence accompanied her words. No cars, no airplanes, not even birds saw fit to break the hallowed quiet. It was as if the whole world understood what had happened and how close they had come to oblivion, how close apocalypse had been.

The marble marker was small with an electronic screen inside, which contained the names of every soldier, sailor, marine, airman, doctor, nurse, government official, and as many documented losses of life in the Order's records as could be found, including Finders, Science Department Personnel, and, of course, Exorcists. The list would be growing for a long time to come. 

Someone gestured for him to come forward and speak, him being the "Destroyer of Time" and all that. But as he looked out at the group of fifty or sixty people, he found that his voice just would not release itself from his throat. It didn't seem right. There were still people in the hospital, people that needed them, that would recover and deserved to be here as well. He didn't deserve to be making any speeches. There were economies to run, countries to organize, refugees to indoctrinate, countries to scour for survivors. This was no time to mourn. 

He looked over to Lenalee, sitting serenely only a few meters away, and his voice returned. 

He never had been good at public speaking.

"One billion, four hundred and twenty seven million, three hundred and twenty three thousand, one hundred and one. Such an astronomical number. Think about this number for a second, just think. Don't just imagine the number, imagine the people that make up that number. One sixth of the population--gone in the blink of an eye. Gone in fewer than twelve hours. Vanished while most of you were asleep in your beds, unaware of the danger you were in. Loved ones exterminated before you could even say goodbye. Friends, lovers, family, turned to dust right before your eyes, all because of a single act of violence, hatred, and intolerance perpetrated centuries ago. A pointless war, a pointless death, and it bred the sorrow you feel deep in your heart."

Allen turned to his comrades sitting alongside him. Cyrah, Lolek, Miranda, and Lenalee. He counted the empty seats beside them. One for Lavi, Kanda, Tuan, Tamas, Amanda, Darcy, Emik--Sasaki, Michel, Hok'ee, Maya, Rodrigo, Krista, Bak, Justin, Elliot, Vikram, Choon-yei, and of course, one for Artemis. He pushed back the tears he felt pooling in his eye. This was not the time. They did not deserve the tears, they deserved the smiles and the happiness that they fought so hard to maintain. So he hastily pulled a sleeve across his face and stared out at his audience.

"Do not mourn them. Smile, laugh, love, live for your loved ones. Make their sacrifices meaningful. Remember them, but do not grieve, because sorrow lives in all of us, and you can never get them back, no matter how much you wish for it to be so. They are free, their souls released and at peace; that is the happiest result. They are looking down on us now--I just know it--and they are rejoicing. Smiling upon the ruins we have made of this world and willing us to live on, to do more with the time we are given and waiting for us to join them in the land that is eternally light. So do not mourn them, celebrate their lives and remember exactly what they died for, what they achieved." 

It was with those words that he left the podium and the stage, Lenalee following close behind him. The sounds of boots behind them were the indication that his friends agreed, and the light applause that drifted past him left the white-haired man with a feeling of relief, because the sounds of sadness were nowhere to be found in the air.

\---

_February 24, 2014--The Ark_

The Imperial March was done no justice by her phone's puny speakers, but at the very least, it alerted Amanda that a family member was calling. She moaned and reached out for it, flipping it open on its journey to her ear. She held it a fair distance from the bandages, which had just been changed.

"Hello?" She said. She sounded like she'd just gotten up, such was her unamusement.

"Hi, Mandy?" It was her mom. She hadn't heard that voice in months. They hadn't talked at least since September, before the Artemis thing. She'd said to expect her for Christmas. Whoops.

"Hey, Mom," she said. Her voice squeaked the way it did when she tried to sound happy. She was such a lost cause.

"Mandy, everything's all over now, right?" Her mom asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Most of us are recuperating in the hospital."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, Mom, I'm--"

"'Cause I tried to call for the past several days, but you weren't answering, and I was _so_ worried, and they said you weren't in the hospital."

"Mom. Calm down," she said. It was so like her mom to get like this, to just rant on and on about how terrified she was. She had to deal with it every time they talked. ("You're going out to fight those _scary_ creatures again! Why?" She'd always ask) She was sympathetic, sure, but the conversations flowed in the same direction each time, a lazy river of topics flowing slowly around and around, never beginning and never ending, with Amanda stuck on a double inner tube with her mother.

"Here, honey, talk to your father--I reached Mandy, dear! Come talk to her!"

There was a click as the other phone in her house was lifted off the hook. "Mandy?" Her father asked. His voice was raspy. He'd been smoking a lot lately.

"Hey, Daddy. Mom's freaking out a bit, but I'm just fine. Only a couple minor burns," she said. She left out the part about the cut on her face and the most-likely-permanent blindness in her right eye.

"Come home, Mandy. We miss you."

Goddammit. She did _not_ want that. Her father said that every time they talked, as did her mom, but she'd always had the Order as an excuse. She was needed; she was one of the few who could fight. But now... She pulled her pillow closer to her and put an arm around it.

"Alright, Daddy," she said. There was nothing else she could say. No buts, no duties, just "alright, Daddy." She wished Darcy was here to hold her, tell her it was alright, but that thought sent tears into her eyes. Her world had cracked. A sob was near, like she'd suddenly transferred from the lazy river to the wave pool, so she hung up the phone, holding down the end call button until it shut off, and dropped it on the ground. She sobbed hard into her pillow, and by the time she was done, it was wetter than a whore with a chastity belt.

She sat up, throwing her covers back. A shower was in order.

Hot water was always comforting, even in times when the blazing temperatures outdoors rivaled that of the spray on her back. She had one of those multi-pressure shower heads, the kind that could come off the hook and spray from your hand. It had been the butt end of many dirty jokes during the weeks they'd spent in the Ark. Road, surprisingly, had been the one to start cracking them. But even now, when all jokes fell flatter than old soda, the shower helped cleanse her of blotchy appearances and feelings. Just the feeling of the washcloth, coarse against her skin, comforted her. It reminded her of days with Darcy, but it also brought her back to the strawberry bubblebath of her youth, her father rubbing little circles on her back as she dunked the boat repeatedly beneath the bubbles. She made little screaming noises for the drowning people and splashing sounds as the boat, aided by her hands, slowly sank to the bottom of the yellow-stained tub.

"Oh, no! It sank!" Her father said, laughing. With his hand, he splashed some water up her back to rinse off the soap. At the time it had felt like a tidal wave. She recalled squealing as water covered her neck. She hit the boat on the bottom of the tub several times and then let it spring up, carrying bubbles and spray with it. Her father got a face-full, and he spluttered. His mustache (a fashion long since removed, thank all deities known and not) dripped with soap and bubbles, and Amanda thought he looked rather like a middle-aged Santa Claus.

But now was not then, though the remembered scene cheered her. She could and did bathe herself. Like she was doing now. She spent extra time on her face, hoping to remove all traces of sadness from her visage.

By the time she emerged from her bathroom nearly half an hour later, she looked at least twice as cheerful as she had going in. That wasn't saying much, but it was a start. Yes, she was going to _moon_ , but not visibly. She was stronger than that. If she kept it all inside, it would be better. Just like it had been when she was younger and her siblings needed a happy big sister to care for them. She tucked the feelings away under the metaphorical bed, which she made very neatly with frilly, happy blankets and a cozy and loving down comforter. Smiling (fakely) to herself in the mirror, she took out the key Allen had made for all the Exorcists and opened a door to her family's living room. It was time to face hell.

The room was the same as it always was. An understuffed couch with the hole in one cushion. A wooden coffee table with bite marks from when the dog got rabies, the glass top smudged and marked by fingertips and coffee mugs. A coffee stain on Daddy's chair, a lazy, burnt orange memento to the seventies, may they rest in peace. A brown ottoman meant to match the carpet, though it was too light to harmonize with the deep shade of the latter. Toys and DVD cases everywhere, tissues from the last bout of colds and flus, four empty mugs, an empty wine glass with some red liquid still at the bottom, and a half-eaten bowl of ramen that looked as though it had sat there at least a week.

Home, sweet home.

Her older brother Carl was asleep on the understuffed couch. He had a tribal-patterned blanket over him, and a little yippy thing that may have been a dog (but was most likely an overlarge rat) curled by his face. Even from here she could smell the alcohol, so Amanda had no problem placing the wineglass (and probably the ramen bowl) as his responsibility.

She tried to tip-toe her way over to the stairs, but she heard an odd, mechanical sound and froze. It didn't sound like Akuma at all, and the laughter of children indicated that all was probably fine, but she had to find out what it was, could not leave it alone. It was still a potential threat, and you had to narrow down everything before dropping your guard. She moved toward the wall, lining up with it as if she meant to diffuse into it, and shuffled until she was barely at the edge of the archway leading to their quote-unquote dining room. She peeked around the corner and saw nothing but the overburdened table. The noise stopped briefly and then began again, headed in her direction. She stepped out, grabbing the nearby stand-up lamp for defense. There was a clunk as the plug was ripped from its socket. Abruptly, a yellow toy dumptruck that came up nearly to Amanda's knees swerved around the corner and collided head-on with her shin. She yelped.

"You little rascal, I'mma rip your li'l head off!" She shouted, replacing the lamp and running (quickly limping) in the direction the plastic vehicle had come from. Something in the adjacent room scrambled, but she was upon it like a cheetah on a gazelle. Once her prey was successfully brought to the floor, she proceeded to go straight for its weakest point--this one was George because he had more blond in his hair, and he had a ticklish spot on his right side that was his Achilles' heel.

"Agh, no, UNCLE, UNCLE!" He yelled. Amanda wanted to continue, but moving her fingers at all was painful. These last few moments had set them throbbing.

"You're lucky I'm injured, you little brute," she said.

"Mandy!?" Her brother squirmed futilely to turn over. She suspected he wanted to see her, so she added more weight on his chest, upon which she was sitting. He gasped a little, but she paid it no attention--if he was dying, he'd make dying sounds, and since he was not, she need not mind his idiotic actions.

"Yes, it's me, now shut up, there's no need for--"

"Mandy's home?" Her mother's voice came from the kitchen, which was attached to the other side of the dining room. She was currently in the laundry room, which led to the garage. Her brother had fallen on a pile of clothes.

"Yeah, Mom, in the laundry room" she called, getting up and extending her hand to her little brother. He took it, so she tugged extra hard as he was moving up so that she could propel him into a hug. She squished him into her stomach--he was still so short!--and squeezed him until her bruised appendages protested. He squirmed away and ran, muttering something about cooties on his way out. Oh, George. His mind would change soon enough.

"Good. We weren't expecting you quite so soon. I was going to hold off on dinner, but your brothers were hung--oh, my. You look terrible. Are you alright? You should sit down!" Her mom was in her worn apron, her hair up in a sloppy bun and her face flushed and sweaty. She leaned against the door frame.

"It only looks bad. I'm fine. Ignore the bandages--they're just preventing infection. Do you want help with dinner?" Not that she was in any condition to.

"Oh, dear, that would be fantastic. Thank you." That was her mom. Worried one moment, forgetting about it the next.

"What are we having?" Amanda asked as they walked back to the kitchen. The smell had been covered up by the alcohol and the closed door, but she detected the familiar scent of ground beef cooking.

"Just Hamburger Helper." She spotted the box as her mother spoke. Grabbing an oven mitt, she covered her bandaged hand and took hold of the pan.

"Any veggies?" She asked. It might be helpful to toss some garlic and onion in the mix, maybe even some green beans...

"There's a package of mixed vegetables in the freezer. It's got cheese sauce, too. All you do is microwave it."

"Alright, Mom, I got it from here," she said. She would not be frustrated. It was just dinner as usual.

"Thanks, dear, you're a life-saver. I'll go get your brothers to set the table. Your dad will be down in a minute." She hurried off, and Amanda sighed. She wasn't sure she was cut out for this.


	6. Depend on You

Chapter 6--Depend on You

_March 3, 2014--William J. Bogan High School, South Side of Chicago, USA_

Outfitting her locker was something Amanda had never had the money to afford before, but now a plethora of magnets—mostly small frames with pictures of her fellow Exorcists and friends—a mirror, and one of those annoying, takes-up-way-too-much-space hanging organizer things decorated the interior. It was a useless effort, though, the young American girl thought. After all, she was only taking one “real” class. English wasn’t that hard. All it required was reading and paying attention. The other classes were simply artsy-fartsy courses required to bounce up her credit number for an early graduation. It irked her that after all the homeschooling she’d done in the Order, she still needed one final semester. Still, she’d sent out applications frantically throughout the entire winter, and she’d gotten her acceptance letter from Princeton two days ago.

Princeton. She was the first person in her family to go to college, and she was headed for a prestigious Ivy League school. On a full ride. She imagined it had something to do with the fact that she’d helped save the entire world, and while in any other case, she would probably hate the special treatment, she knew the expense of a college education. She wouldn’t give that up—not for the world. Especially since her family was still being assisted by what was left of the Coalition.

Above all, Amanda did not want to be a burden on her already financially pained family. She had the chance to do great things, and she would. But she’d take whatever money she could get. The brunette knew the value of a dollar—and a pound, and a euro, and a yuan, and any other currency this world had to offer—she knew it so painfully well that she would do anything to minimize the expense.

Slamming her locker shut and trying to avoid flinching as each answering _bang_ from other students following her lead resounded through the hall; Amanda made her solitary way to her English class. It was weird, really, to be back in school, to smell the tiles and pencils and books masking the reek of sweat from all the “manly” men who thought they were too cool to go to class.

To tell the truth, she found it absolutely terrifying. Logically, she knew all the Akuma were gone, but each person who turned to gape at her—she was new to this district, after all—looked like they had a hidden agenda. Each tentative smile from potential classmates seemed like an unmerciful smirk from the deadliest of enemies. Each time she saw someone with that _exact_ shade of blonde hair, her heart jumped, and the only face she could see was Artemis’s, even though she’d been dead for months now. Whenever someone bulky—a jock, a football player, it didn’t really matter who—walked by, she was reminded of Chaz.

Even the barest of inevitable contact in the hallway as she pushed her way through set her heart in a frenzy. She felt tight and tense, like a spring about to burst. She felt claustrophobic.

Amanda tried to ignore all the stares as she walked, late, into her English classroom. The teacher was strict-looking, something with which she would likely end up having a problem. It wasn’t that she didn’t like authority; it was just that she wasn’t ready to take orders at the moment, not after she’d spent a good several years doing exactly that.

The class went silent as they took in the scarred right half of her face. Though her doctors had assured her the scars would fade, they had yet to do so. They were better than they’d been two weeks ago when they’d been treated.

“I assume you’re Amanda Colten,” her teacher intoned. The lady was blonde, a shade or two darker than Artemis’s beautiful tresses, the pigment going gray at her temples. She looked middle-aged, and the scowl on her face reminded Amanda very much of Yuu-pyon’s after someone (well, Amanda) stole his soba.

“Yeah,” the brunette girl replied. She tried desperately to ignore her peers’ stares.

“Have a seat at the empty desk behind Jacob,” the teacher said, gesturing to the right side of the class.

It was the only open desk in the entire room, which, granted, was rather small in comparison to others Amanda had been forced to poke her head into. She took her seat and let the teacher go into whatever she was talking about.

Without meaning to, Amanda began scanning the class, her eyes frantically moving from target to target. She needed to know that she was okay, that she was safe, even though this was an Akuma-less world now. It was irrational, but she couldn’t help it. Everyone was moving, shifting in place, and the teacher droned on, moving properly and not sending her any sinister sneers.

She was okay, she really was.

Gradually, Amanda began to relax, only glancing around the room every once in a while.

“I know you are new here and don’t know anything about my policies, but I can assure you, Amanda, that if you don’t pay attention, I will put you in detention.” The teacher’s voice broke through her silent reverie, and it was at that point that Amanda realized she hadn’t been paying attention at all.

The brunette looked up, raising her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t advise that,” she said, her voice terse. The middle-aged lady looked taken aback, as if she hadn’t expected such a response.

“Oh, and why would that be?” The lady asked, somewhat melodramatically, in Amanda’s opinion.

“Surely you were apprised of my situation,” she replied, knowing that she’d completely lost what she had dubbed her fun and loving mask. It wasn’t surprising, though, since it was hard to act happy when every cell of her body ached in steep betrayal by the one person she’d loved most.

Okay, maybe she was melodramatic, too, but she had at least earned the right.

“Oh, do tell,” the English teacher said, her voice the pinnacle of expectancy.

“I’d prefer not to,” Amanda replied, sticking her chin out somewhat. She didn’t mean to be disrespectful, it was just that she really didn’t want her classmates to know the horrors she’d gone through if she could help it. She was already the weirdo. High school kids emphasized appearance, and hers was very, very flawed at the moment, something stare-worthy. As much as she pretended not to care, she didn’t want to be the odd one out, treated differently just because she had a guaranteed spot at Princeton, just because she had saved all their fucking asses from certain death at the hands of the apocalyptic Level Six Akuma. And the Earl.

It was in these moments that she missed her Irishman the most. Darcy always knew what to say. He would always stroke her back, pet her hair, and whisper in her ear—in that _damn sexy_ accent of his—exactly what she needed to hear to make everything okay.

Amanda had become dependent, and now without that anchor, she was free-floating in a world she no longer understood. Road had helped, as had Lenalee, but it wasn’t the same. No, she wouldn’t break, but she’d never be whole again. Not in the same way.

“Really? Shed some light as to why I should treat you specially,” the teacher dictated, her voice as harsh as the crack of a whip.

The situation might have been salvageable, but at that point, Jacob’s heavy textbook fell to the ground with a loud, echoing _bang_ that brought battle into Amanda’s eyes. All around her were Akuma, enemies to be destroyed.

Jumping up, the adrenaline in her system rolling forth like a great big wave, Amanda outstretched her arm and shouted, “ _activate!_ ”

Nothing happened, but in her mind, the American girl saw her discus forming in her hand, and she threw it out, not caring that her hand connected with something solid, making it smart somewhat. She could see the students all around her morphing into Level Ones, their guns whining as they charged to fire deadly shots upon her and the other humans.

She had to stop them. Vaguely, she registered screams and yells, but that didn’t matter—it was just part of being an Exorcist. The crowd always shouted at this point. She just had to recall her Innocence, that beautiful streaming ribbon of peaceful green emanating from the gray discus she’d come to love.

Footsteps charged all around her, but all she could do was shoot her discus out again, the explosions of the Akuma forcing her to shield her eyes.

Arms grabbed her in a bear hug from behind, and something heavy forced her to the ground. She struggled and shouted and bit and scratched at anything in range. She had to get free. If an Akuma took her—or worse, if it was Chaz or another Noah—she knew she’d never survive, and now she had no Darcy, no Artemis, to back her up. It was just her, here in this suburban school the Coalition had forced her into “for her own health.”

Her head hit the ground, and she blinked, and things suddenly became very clear.

She was on the floor, a security guard on top of her now limp form—she’d just stopped struggling. Above her, the teacher was looking appalled and shocked, and her fellow students were looking at her like she was a lunatic. After all she’d been through, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was.

“Sorry,” she breathed, staying as still as possible. The security guard eased up on her but did not unhand her. She wouldn’t have either, if their positions had been reversed. “PTSD.” It was all Amanda could say, and she hung her head in shame for acting so stupidly. Talk about standing out.

As she was escorted out, she sent an apologetic glance back at the class. Jacob, the boy who sat in front of her, was bleeding from the head, and several were still cowering at the back of the classroom. She wondered just how bad she’d freaked out. Obviously, she wouldn’t be back in class for a while.

\---

Whispers followed her in the hallway all day. They were hard to hear over the heavy chatter and footsteps, but Amanda saw the covert looks, the hasty retreat of eyes that realized she’d noticed their blatant staring. It wasn’t that she minded it particularly much—she’d been through far worse than an overactive high school rumor mill—but the looks she received unnerved her. They reminded her of the Akuma. No, the people weren’t eerily still in the hallways, but she’d been trained not to trust anyone and anything that gave her a second glance.

After her English class freak-out, she’d been sent to the office. She sat in a sort of comfortable wooden chair that reminded her of the one that went along with her desk at the Order. But even the slight familiarity did not stop her from hyperventilating, because comfortable as the chair might seem, people stared and stared and stared at her, drilling holes with their eyes. Eventually, someone had taken pity on her and sent her to the nurse. There was a tiny, dimly-lit room behind the clinic, and Amanda found herself finally relaxing, her breaths and heart rate finally slowing to normal, stable levels, the quietness and sanctity calming her like nothing else could.

Well, nothing else and Darcy. But he’d decided to leave her, so she wasn’t thinking about that.

Amanda had expected there would be conflict over the age difference. There were just over four years between them, and while that wouldn’t normally matter—Amanda’s parents were a good twelve years apart, and they’d never had problems with their marriage, poor though they were—she was still young enough for it to be considered statutory rape.

But honestly, she was very nearly seventeen, and she was more than willing to wait a year just to be with him. She’d known such a break would be necessary after the war. It was the route she’d expected them to take.

So it had to be something else, something beyond his supposed reason. She was ugly now, with ugly, inflamed scars tracing spider web patterns across half of her face. He didn’t want kids—it had been that conversation when she’d first noted something was off. She’d done something stupid to drive him away. He was tired of dealing with the depression she still felt over Artemis’s death so many months ago. He found someone else. She wasn’t particularly experienced in bed, so he wasn’t being pleased properly and never had been. He was secretly gay and wanted to run off with Emiko-kun.

So many possibilities, some—like the last—more than a little ridiculous. But they all swirled around her mind in a constant vortex of negativity.

Amanda sighed, slamming her locker shut. She’d wasted most of her time and all of her useless art credits in the school’s clinic, so she was on her way to study hall. She was technically allowed to sign out and leave now, since she was a senior, despite being a year too young, but Amanda wanted to apologize to her English teacher before she went. She’d disturbed the poor lady’s class, after all.

She went to the library to sign in and then slipped out the back doors when no one was looking. She got strange glances from security guards, teachers, and the final trickle of students as she headed back to her English classroom, but she ignored them. Even though each one gave her the jitters.

She was perhaps very, very lucky that her English teacher was free, but Amanda couldn’t help but think that at least one thing had gone right today.

The room was decorated the same—not that she’d been expecting it to change. Posters obviously crafted from students littered the walls, decorating them with bright colors. One in particular caught her eye. It was a collage of London, both old and new, and quotes sat beneath each of the overlapped pictures. One of the pictures was a blurry, obviously photoshopped depiction of the Eye, and it took a great force of will to block out the bad memories, the rush of noises and battles and screams, the smell of smoke—acrid and suffocating—burning her nose, the flashes of light blinding everyone in the vicinity, the whistling of Akuma cannons, imitating a steaming teakettle almost perfectly. The adrenaline, the panic, oppressed her again.

Abruptly, she ripped her eyes from the image, wanting to blot out remembered sensations, remembered fear. Her pupils were probably horribly dilated from the adrenaline in her system, but her teacher didn’t seem to notice. Instead, the lady looked up from the papers she was grading and gave Amanda a stiff nod.

“Anything I can do for you?” The lady asked. Her voice sounded as stiff as her movements, and Amanda watched as the woman’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Obviously, she was less than pleased at the American Exorcist for her earlier offense.

“Mrs. Wilson, I’m really sorry about the… disturbance I made this morning,” Amanda said, hoping she sounded as sincere as she felt. Her English teacher raised her eyebrows, looking surprised.

“It’s no problem—” her tone suggested differently, “—but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you not to do it again.”

Amanda froze. Had she really just been asked not to have a panic attack? Cold rage flowed through her veins like icy lava, like that strange-looking gel found inside cold packs. Her jaw tightened, clenched shut, her hands fisted, nails feeling like pinpricks in rough, callused skin, but she couldn’t say anything. Taking a deep, calming breath, Amanda released the tension, forcing it away as if she was shooing an annoying animal.

“I won’t… I hope.”

Her teacher’s face softened, thankfully understanding her plight. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Amanda nodded. “You know I have PTSD.” The teacher inclined her head, showing her agreement. “Well, it’s not usually a problem, but today, someone dropped their book. It sounded like a gunshot. I shouldn’t have a problem, though, as long as that doesn’t happen again. There’s just one thing, though… our last battle took place at the Eye in London, and I saw a lot of my good friends die there.” She tried to ignore how very raw her voice suddenly sounded, how it had cracked on the word _die_. She’d seen Artemis’s face on the Eye. She’d see it every time she looked upon the largest Ferris wheel. “If you could take down the one collage over there, I’d be really grateful.”

The teacher frowned as she looked after Amanda’s pointed finger. “That was one of the best posters a student has made. He’s long since graduated, but I’m rather partial to it…”

“Please,” Amanda begged, her voice cracking again as a tear slipped down her cheek. “I saw millions of soldiers turn to dust, I saw the face of my best friend who’d been murdered after weeks of Medieval-style torture on an apocalyptic killing machine, I saw my good friend’s guts rolling about on the ground as he sobbed into his comatose lover’s hair, I saw a girl have wings of Innocence ripped from her back, I saw her splatter on the ground. Every time I see that collage—and it’s on the wall behind my desk—I’m going to see those images again. Please, I am _begging_ you, _please_ , take it down, just for this last semester.”

Mrs. Wilson was frozen in place. Amanda was horrified. She hadn’t meant to say any of that, hadn’t meant to let anything slip. There was something unfair in letting others know exactly what she’d seen. Mrs. Wilson shifted her weight forward as she made to get up. Amanda took a step back, and then, tears fighting for an exit from her eyes, she turned and fled the room. She didn’t even return to study hall, just went to the security desk and signed out, sniffing back the mucus that threatened to dollop out of her nose.

The only good thing that came from that terrible slip was that, when Amanda walked into class the next morning, the poster had been removed, replaced with a random scene out of _Paradise Lost_.

\---

_August 12, 2014--The Ark_

Allen sat across from Lenalee, sipping a cup of coffee through pursed lips. He was staring over Lenalee’s shoulder at the computer screen as she scrolled--too fast--through the listings.

“Wait,” he said abruptly. Lenalee stopped scrolling. “How about that one?”

“Which one, Allen?” She asked. She sounded a little tired.

“That one,” he said, gesturing with his mug, despite the fact that she couldn’t see it.

“Which one?”

“Oh, sorry, the one with the two bedrooms, one bath, and the sizable living room,” he said.

“The one beneath the Amnesty Falls place?”

“Yeah.”

She clicked the link. The next page loaded slowly, but when the picture finally came up, they both leaned in a little closer. Allen blinked. They were supposed to be looking at apartments. Maybe he’d seen wrong. When he refocused on the computer screen, the image hadn’t changed.

“Oh, isn’t that a darling little house, Allen?” Lenalee said, twining her arms around his right one.

“Apartments, Lenalee, we’re looking for apartments.”

“I know, but...”

“No.”

“It’s not like we don’t have money...”

“But isn’t a house a big commitment?”

She looked at him, in _that_ way, and suddenly he was backtracking like mad, trying to recover some semblance of favor from her before it was destroyed. But it was too late, she’d already thought of a response.

“And getting married... isn’t?”

“N-no, that’s not it! I- I meant financially... or-or...time or something?”

It was no use. He was doomed. She turned all the way around in her seat, releasing his arm and cocking her head to the side. She straightened her posture. He had grown taller than her, but when she pulled herself up to her full height, Allen always felt like he was fifteen again, a short beansprout, a babbling child who didn’t know when to shut up.

“How much do you think weddings cost?” Lenalee asked.

“Uh... a fair amount?”

“Give me a figure.”

“How do you know the average price for a wedding?”

“Because I’m a _girl_ , Allen, and Amanda and Road and Miranda and I all talk about this sort of stuff. And we’ve talked about it for _months_ now, Allen. After wedding bands and the dress, there’s still venue prices, entertainment costs, the expenses of having an _open bar_. Then there’s the bridesmaids’ dresses, the groomsmen’s tuxes, the catering, the service, the cake topper, the _cake_ , and so, _so_ many other things.”

Allen blinked. He might have to start up poker again. But no, he was rich now. Lenalee, catching on to his dumbfoundedness by the distinct slack he felt in his jaw, smiled at him.

“Oh, Allen,” she said, shaking her head but still holding her smile.

“I’ve never... settled down,” he said finally.

“Well, isn’t that what we were planning on doing?” Lenalee asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms across her chest. She started tapping her right foot, a recent habit. It had started while they were sitting in Kanda’s room. All those motionless months had to manifest somehow.

“Yes, but I thought we were looking for apartments,” Allen said. He looked away.

“I know, but isn’t this house really cute?”

“Yeah... it is.” He tried not to sound resigned.

“Allen, are you... scared?”

“What? No!”

He’d never had a stable home before, which obviously meant he wanted one. There was absolutely nothing to suggest that he wouldn’t. It was just that he’d always been moving around so much. His first home hadn’t exactly worked out that well, and then there was the nomadic lifestyle of the circus and after that, Cross’s bar-hopping, Order-evading endeavors. Then there had been the Order itself. While he had always had somewhere to come back to, he was constantly living in Inns on the way to, during, and on the way home from missions. Even the Order had had to move. And then he’d lived in the Ark. The longest place he’d ever lived was in Hevlaska’s stomach, and that didn’t really count because he hadn’t actually been conscious for any of it.

Obviously, all that moving around meant he wanted to stay in one place. Forever.

So why was he feeling so much trepidation at the idea of even _considering_ a house?

“You are, aren’t you?” Lenalee said.

“No! I’m not!” He waved his arm frantically back and forth in front of him, hoping that the movement would negate her accusation, both for her and for himself.

“Allen, you are lying to me. Why are you afraid to have a house?” Her voice was suddenly much less sharp. In fact, it sounded a bit like a silken sheet on bare skin.

“I--I don’t know,” he said. He looked down at his feet.

“Are you afraid to be with me?” She asked.

“No,” he said. No. That would never be the case.

“Are you afraid to live alone with me?”

“No.”

“Then what is it, Allen? What is it about a house that’s got you so nervous? Is it because it’s so permanent? Not like the wedding kind of permanent, but the ‘we can never leave this place ever’ kind of permanent?”

Something in his stomach gurgled. He hoped it didn’t actually make any noise. He kept looking at his toes. Lenalee continued on.

“Because that’s not true. That’s a small house. That house could hold one, maybe two kids. But it’d be very cramped. It doesn’t have a big yard. You couldn’t put a swing in it. And Amanda keeps saying something about how it’s really necessary to have a thing called a--a ‘jungle jim,’ whatever that is. I assume it’s a thing, though, and not a person, because she said it goes in the backyard. And I want a garden, too. Big, with lots of flowers. And vegetables. And sunflowers. So many sunflowers. And we can’t have that here in this small house. This house is darling, but I imagine we’d move once we start a family. So you don’t have to be worried about always staying in one place. Besides, we may see the inside of this house and hate it.”

Allen still stared at his shoes, only now he was gazing past, trying to develop x-ray vision so he could see through the floorboards. The vision in his eye blurred. He started for a second, tensed up so much he started to shake, but then his vision cleared and he was okay.

“Allen?” Her hand was on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to be stuck in one place,” he said.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?”

“I don’t want to be left behind.”

“I won’t leave you behind,” Lenalee said, moving her hand from his shoulder to his back and using it to pull him close. He let her hold him, laid his head on her shoulder. It was sort of boney and it started a dull ache at the point of contact on his forehead. He could feel the blood pounding around the area.

“I know, but... what if we get stuck?”

“Now I don’t follow you, Allen.”

“Stuck in one place while everyone goes off in different directions, and we are left behind in our little house, unable to follow.”

“But there’s always the Ark.” She held him tighter.

“That’s not exactly what I meant.” He meant emotionally. Maybe. What did he mean?

“Then what did you mean?” She started running her fingers in a small circular pattern along the small of his back. He leaned into her.

“What if you leave me?”

It was out before he knew he had even meant to say it. It was just hanging there in the air, between them, even though he was all sorts of pressed up against Lenalee and he was trying not to get turned on by the sweeping movements of her fingers.

And then the dam was unplugged, and before Lenalee could speak, Allen began to blabber out words he’d never acknowledged before but were true nonetheless.

“What if you leave me and all I have left is the house and no one else, because all the girls will side with you, and if the girls side with you, so will the guys, just like everyone’s shunning Darcy right now because of the whole Amanda thing. What if you leave me like my birth parents or Mana or Cross? What if you leave me all alone?”

His knees chose that moment to give out, so he slipped to the floor. It hurt a little, the impact. But he wasn’t really concentrating on that. He was looking at Lenalee’s legs, saw them move toward his face as she bent down. Her hands went in his hair.

“It’s okay,” she said. He wasn’t crying, his eyes (blind and normal) weren’t leaking, he wasn’t even shaking, but she slowly shifted her hands down to his cheeks, rubbing mini circles with her thumbs. “I am never going to leave you.”

\---

 _August 24th_ \-- _Konstanz_ , _Germany_

Miranda sat down in her chair to watch. She sighed, as her ankles ached from the effort, and she patted her stomach lovingly as she received an aggravated kick from its resident. This would be an interesting scene to watch unfold.

Lolek had all the pieces laid out on the floor, in alphabetical order, according to the instructions. Just getting the box inside had been an issue. It was heavy and unwieldy and had taken several attempts to slide up the steps and into the nursery. She had stayed dutifully out of the way. Now she just had to sit back, relax, and watch as the baby’s crib was assembled before her eyes.

They’d bought the house several months back, right after they had been let out of the hospital. It was just what she had imagined: out of the way, a nice kitchen, living room, two bathrooms, and three bedrooms. Just in case, she’d smiled to herself. Plus, it had a backyard. She’d been giddy with excitement when they had moved in. It seemed like everything she’d wished for was coming true.

She watched contentedly as the blond man attempted to screw leg A into side section A with the flimsy metal wrench/screwdriver that had come with the box. It didn’t seem to be working all that well and she could tell he was becoming frustrated already. She giggled slightly as the tool flew across the room and onto the floor.

Lolek mumbled something profane under his breath as he got up and fetched it. She watched him fiddle with the little bolts and try to fit notch after notch together, but it seemed fruitless. He was getting more and more frustrated by the second and she knew that any moment it would become too much. She decided to nip it in the bud before there was some sort of explosion. Profanities were not good for the baby.

Pulling herself from the chair, not quite as easy of a feat as it would have been only a few weeks ago, she shuffled over to her heap of muscle on the floor.

She leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder, though she couldn’t bend down low enough to grab his hand and if she tried she knew she’d get stuck, so this would have to suffice.

He looked up at her. His hair was getting a bit too long and it was obscuring his eyes, which was a shame in Miranda’s opinion, so she smoothed it out of the way and smiled at him. She smoothed some of the wrinkles that had formed around his eyes, noting the dark circles there as well. It looked like neither of them had been sleeping well, though probably for slightly different reasons.

Lolek placed his hand on top of hers, pulling her slightly closer as he got to his knees. He was so tall that even while kneeling he was able to rest his head on her oversized stomach fairly easily. They stayed there for a moment as she ran her fingers through his hair slowly.

“Still haven’t been sleeping?” She whispered, trying not to disturb the nice peacefulness that seemed to have settled.

There was a small shake in response.

“How about we go downstairs, then; I’ll make some tea, and we’ll cuddle.”

There was another shake and then a sigh.

“I can feel her.” It was spoken with such wonderment that it even surprised Miranda. She knew that Lolek had at least felt the baby kick.

“She must know it’s you; she kicks like mad when you’re around.”

There was another sigh. “That is amazing.”

“Lolek, is everything alright? You can tell me.”

She didn’t get a response. This was just like him, though, not telling her what he was thinking. So she pulled him up (as best she could, though he didn’t resist) and led him downstairs, where she plopped him on his favorite side of the couch and went to make tea. His favorite, of course, orange ginger. Something to soothe and relax because that was just what it seemed he needed.

As soon as it was done, she settled herself onto the couch next to him and handed over the mug.

“I really should get back to that...” He mumbled, looking into the cup.

“Hush, it can wait, we’ve still got weeks before we’ll really need it. Right now, it’s just you and me.” She leaned over and placed her head on his shoulder, waiting for him to make some headway on the tea before she pursued her original question.

Lolek leaned back into a throw pillow after placing the mug on the coffee table. Miranda seized the opportunity to situate herself as close as possible to him. They sat for a while in silence.

“She’s going to be okay, right?”

She stopped. “What do you mean?” What _did_ he mean? Was he starting to have second thoughts about this? Was he having second thoughts about _her_? Was he worried that she’d be a terrible mother and do something like _drop_ the baby? Oh dear, what if she did? What if she did and it was an awful, terrible, tragedy and he _hated_ her for it and would never forgive her? It would be like the end of the world, only worse! And she would be so, _so_ sorry. But he would never accept her apologies. And would she even forgive herself? No, it would be better off to die.

She felt dizzy. Oh, she was dizzy, but how could she be so dizzy from sitting down? It was getting dark, too. Had they really been sitting there so long?

\---

“Miranda, dear, are you okay? Can you hear me? _Liebchen, hörst du mich?_ ”

Someone was stroking her cheek. It was so nice; she wanted to just lay there forever. Whoever was there with her obviously didn’t know what a terrible person she was and she’d prefer to keep it that way. Although, she did want to know if what she thought was what was bothering Lolek.

She opened her eyes and saw the object of her thoughts looking down at her, looking spectacularly green; he must be more worried than she thought! It was terrible!

“Lolek? Why are you on the floor?” She was stretched out on the couch and he was kneeling next to her, slowly running a hand over her forehead.

“Well, you fainted and I needed to make sure I could get you to a hospital if it was something serious, so I got up. What had you so worked up? You scared me to death!”

“I fainted?”

“Yes. First you got all quiet, and then you started hyperventilating, and then you just went limp.” He was returning to his normal color again, much to her relief, but he still sounded anxious.

“I’m fine.” And judging by the ferocious kicking of the passenger in her womb, so was the baby.

“Well, something must have upset you.”

“What did you mean by, ‘she will be okay, right?’”

He looked at her, and seemed to have some sort of realization. Throwing his arms around her as best as he could considering her position, Lolek rested his head near hers.

“I was worrying about my capabilities as a father figure. I wasn’t questioning your mothering skills.”

Astounded, she sat up quickly, her shoulder nearly making contact with his nose. Somehow Lolek always knew what she was thinking.

“Y-you were? Why?” The dark-haired woman didn’t demand things often, but when she did it was when she was presented with the absurd and wanted to have an explanation. Lolek, not being a good father? That thought was the absurdist of all absurd things, worse than that Dali fellow.

“What if I can’t protect her? I--I--” He took a deep breath in, almost like he was getting ready to hold it, but he didn’t, letting it out slowly. “I don’t want her to end up like my sister. I couldn’t protect the only person I had. I couldn’t bear to have that happen again.”

This time, it was Miranda who reached out. She hadn’t realized just how much he still was holding on. It would be something he would never quite get over, she knew that, but still, to live with that shadow was not something she could stand. She motioned for him to sit down next to her, grabbing his hands while he did.

“You protected me. You stood there and were beaten almost senseless and you didn’t give up even after your arm was nearly shattered. You stayed by me, picked me up every time I fell down the stairs, made me feel like I wasn’t a worthless klutz. If you do even a fraction of that for our daughter, you will be one of the best fathers out there. Lolek, you can’t let the past bog you down. You--I-I mean, we both--have to face up to it and realize we aren’t those weak people anymore. We have each other now and soon we’ll have a baby.”

There were those wrinkles at the corners of his eyes again. There was so much sadness and anxiety there, but now there was also something else, that same glimmer they’d had on New Year’s, the same shine they’d had when they’d found out it was a girl, the same almost imperceptible gleam that was a mixture of hope and something else she never could quite figure out. But that was the look she knew, the look she had been waiting for to know that it would be, that it was, alright.

“I think, we’ll both be amazing.”

\---

_September 23, 2014--A cafe in Tokyo, Japan_

His coffee was cold, he realized with a grimace. It tasted like someone had ground up a brick, added milk, or cream, and some sort of artificial sweetener and tried to pass it off as a “delicious American-style blend.” Sasaki had had American coffee before, none of that Starbucks stuff either, or the sludge that Amanda drank--“black, no sugar”--but real, American, “the best part of wakin’ up” coffee.

He wondered how long he’d been sitting there. Looking at his phone, he pondered at the lost hours. He should have been studying, but for some reason, his head had just not been in the game. Every time he sat down to work on his sketches, his mind would wander away, sometimes aimlessly, sometimes directed toward memories that would best be kept locked up in case the neighbors got suspicious of the sudden bouts of crying and hysteria.

Things had been better since he’d moved out of his parent’s home. He’d even gotten used to the loneliness, seeing as most of his time was spent reading, drawing, re-drawing, re-reading, and looking at blueprints. But despite his most intense efforts, he still couldn’t deny that he was in desperate need of some company. The worst part was, he just couldn’t bring himself to call up anyone. It... just didn’t feel right, calling them. Amanda was at Princeton, dealing with her own issues and... well, it had been so long since he’d talked with anyone else, wouldn’t it just seem awkward to suddenly call out of the blue? He would have to deal with his problems on his own. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself for the past few months.

The Japanese man toyed with the idea of ordering some fresh coffee, maybe a slice of chocolate cheesecake to go with it. Wait, no... it would have to be strawberry. Yes. Strawberry cake. He smiled to himself a little after he placed the order. This would make him feel better.

The cake and coffee were delivered in no time. But just as he was about to take his first bite, someone sat down in the chair across from him. At his table. With him.

“Looks tasty, mind if I grab a bite?” A very familiar voice asked. An elegant, smooth hand gracefully took hold of his already half-raised one, guiding it across the table.

Sasaki was too shocked to speak, though coming from the person in question, it really shouldn’t have been. He gathered his nerves, though, and looked his accoster square in his no longer yellow eyes.

“What do _you_ want, Tyki?” He was surprised when he managed to pull of the annoyed sound in his voice. The last thing he needed was Noah trouble. Even though he was really just being biased now.

“I was just passing by, and you looked a bit... lonely. If that is even the correct descriptor. More like downtrodden or lost. So, I thought I’d stop and try and cheer you up.” Sasaki had never noticed how rough his voice sounded, and yet, it managed to flow so silkily, like everything he said was rehearsed a hundred times over.

Tyki raised an eyebrow at him as if expecting something. It was then that Sasaki realized that he was probably supposed to say something. He’d just been staring at the oddly... charming invader.

“Why would you do that?”

“Maybe because I don’t like seeing people that I know sitting by themselves, looking like it’s the end of the world.” This guy always had a response, it seemed.

“Well, thanks... I guess.”

Neither of them said anything for a while. They simply stared at each other. Sasaki, taking a tentative bite of his cake, Tyki, sitting sideways in the chair, legs crossed, a jacketed elbow nonchalantly placed on the table. He was sitting like he’d been torn out of a scene of a movie or magazine. Even his hair seemed to defy reality, curling oddly onto his forehead.

Sasaki finished his cake and even managed half of his cup of coffee before he gave that up as indigestion waiting to happen.

“So,” Sasaki started, not really having anything to say.

The Portuguese man seemed to perk up at the word, eager, almost, to hear what was going to come next. It was then that Sasaki began to wonder if maybe Tyki was lonely too. It seemed like an odd thought, seeing as he had his whole family, and they were connected on a level that was almost incomprehensible, but maybe it was possible.

“Do... you want... to come over?” What in the hell was he saying? And yet he found himself meaning every word.

Tyki sat a little straighter, his eyebrows raising until they got lost in those odd curls at his forehead. “I... would be honored.” He immediately scowled, and Sasaki had the feeling he was chiding himself for such a formal, antiquated assent. Obviously he hadn’t completely left the past behind.

They didn’t say anything else as they walked toward Sasaki’s apartment.

\----

_June 14, 2014--The Ark_

“Tyki, we would like to talk to you,” Sarah said as Tyki opened a door to the Ark. He was still in the bar. He hadn’t even stepped inside yet.

“Will you let me in?” He asked, frowning.

“Oh! Of course.” She stepped back and he entered the Ark. He took care to close the door gently behind him, turning to face it as he did so, allowing himself a moment to collect himself. He’d had more than a little to drink, and while he wouldn’t say he was flat-out plastered or even moderately drunk, he was definitely more than buzzed and his steps weren’t as sure as he was hoping they’d be.

“What’s going on?” He asked. A door opened farther down the stone path running through this sector of the ark. Just a hair. Not enough for him to see who it was. He was unsure who “we” was supposed to mean.

“Oh, nothing too serious. We just wanted to sit down together as a family for a few minutes.”

“Oh.” Okay. So it was everyone. He followed Sarah into the room. It was spacious and very much to his liking, with well-stuffed chaises, sofas, and even a couple lazy boy chairs that he had come to love within the past fifty years. There were numerous end tables with crocheted covers, many boasting potted flowers. On the dark wood of the coffee table in the middle of the room sat a vase of red roses, arguably his favorite flower. They were buttering him up for something.

Faith sat in the middle of a sofa and beckoned to him as he stood at the door frame.

“Come on, sit down,” she said, so he walked over and sat in the chair adjacent to her sofa.

“So what’s happened?” He asked, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. He decided to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground. There was too much nervous energy in the room. Maybe it was his.

“Well, we wanted to have a bit of a chat with you,” said Faith. “We’ve noticed that you’ve been a bit distracted of late.”

“Distracted,” Tyki said. Oh criminy, it was about him. The others were here to witness the whole thing. It was not everyone gathering for a “family meeting” of sorts.

“Yes.”

Sarah closed the door and came over to sit across from him. She looked at him, and Tyki felt the urge to recoil in the form of a shiver.

“Would you like a sucker?” Asked Road, getting up from her seat in the corner and offering him a purple candy. It was the same color as his lovely, flesh-eating, butterfly-shaped golems.

“No, thanks,” he said, turning his face away from her. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in her face. He was fondest of her, after all. She went back to her seat, dragging her heels against the plush oriental rug.

“Alright, Tyki, we’ll be straight with you. We’re worried about you.” This time it was Sarah who spoke.

“Why?” He asked.

“Well, like we said, you’ve been very distracted lately. You’ve been going to bars a lot.”

“Going to bars is hardly any cause for worry,” he said. He leaned forward and grabbed a rose from the vase on the coffee table. It had been divested of its thorns and so he turned it slowly in his hands without worry of pain, however brief it may be. He frowned at it. This conversation was not to his liking.

“No, Tyki, but you’ve been having quite a bit to drink, and--”

“--And you think I am an alcoholic, which I am not. I am merely playing--”

“--Poker, which you seem to have been doing a lot of lately. In fact, you’ve been playing so much poker--and other games, don’t think we’re stupid--and you’ve been visiting casinos so often, that we all have noticed the huge behavioral changes. You are irritable, and if you aren’t having a gin and tonic--or--or a rum and coke or whatever drink it is you prefer--”

“Whiskey sours,” Tyki said under his breath.

“ _Listen to me_ , Tyki. If you aren’t having your _whiskey sours_ and gambling profusely, you get irritable and downright rude.”

“I don’t have to listen to you attack me like this,” Tyki said, getting up. Abruptly, there was a cat in his lap, and he was forced back into a sitting position as it morphed back into Lulu’s human form. Then Chaz was at his side, holding down one of his wrists on the armrest. His own brother, Cyril, caught his other arm before Tyki could resist. Realizing that he was outnumbered twelve to one, he sank back into the chair. He was the Noah of Pleasure, after all, and getting hit and overpowered, while pleasurable in some cases, was most certainly not in this particular instance. He sighed.

“So you all think I have a gambling problem.”

“We know you do, Tyki,” said Faith, and she came over and laid a hand on his. He growled at her. He heard a faint hiss come from Lulu.

“And what makes you say that?” He finally managed to say. It was very difficult to unclench his teeth.

“We’ve done a lot of research in this area,” Charlie said, coming up to him. “You try to hide all the gambling you do from us, and it actually took us following you a couple times to realize how much--”

“You--you _followed_ me!?” Tyki spluttered.

“We were worried,” said Faith. As if that made everything okay. All sunshine and daisies. Well fuck that.

“And that gives you the right!?” Tyki was yelling now, actively pulling at his restrainers and attempting to unseat Lulubell with as many jerking leg movements as he could manage.

“No, but as I said, we were worried.”

“That’s one of the signs, you see,” Charlie said. “When your friends and family become worried about you, see you pulling away, see that your behavior is self-destructive, that’s a sign that you are a compulsive gambler.”

“And what other _signs_ do you see?” Tyki growled. His captors were holding him too tightly. He was beginning to lose sensation in his fingertips. Still he thrashed against them.

“Well, like I said before you first interrupted, you attempted to hide your gambling from us. There’s also the fact that you can’t seem to walk away. Most poker nights end up with you passed out from too many drinks or the others heading home. When you’re at the casinos, you have a drink too many and they kick you out for disorderly conduct. Only when you’re so exhausted you can’t keep going do you ever consider leaving, and you’re back by lunchtime the next day.”

“I do not gamble that often. I do other things.”

“Like what?”

He couldn’t think of anything.

“I get coffee,” he said.

They all stared for a second, and then he remembered to keep struggling.

“I do _not_ have a problem,” he insisted, pulling harder, growling and gnashing his teeth as he fought harder to unseat Lulu.

“Yes, you do!” Faith said, standing up. She was beginning to raise her voice. She took a few steps toward him and then turned so that she was directly in front of him (though Lulu was kind of in the way). “And we are here to help you. But until you admit you have a problem, I don’t want you anywhere near my Ark!” She turned her back on him. He looked around Lulubell and watched Faith’s body move as she took a long breath. He forgot to respond. He even forgot to thrash.

“Let him go,” she said at last.

He felt the difference at once in the abrupt and achingly sharp tingling in his hands and fingertips. He felt light all of a sudden as Lulubell stood up, the now crushed rose falling to the ground beneath her. He lunged past her and out the door. He fumbled in his pocket for his key to the Ark and opened the nearest door he could find.

It led directly to a pub.

\---

_September 23, 2014--Tokyo, Japan_

He’d been wandering around for hours. His head was fuzzy from the previous night. He’d had too much to drink. That had become a common occurrence in the past three and a half months. So a walk in Tokyo was just what he needed. He wasn’t, strictly speaking, allowed in the Ark, with the exception of his needing transportation to Rome for the thirty-first of August. They’d left him there, of course, talking about how he was still “adamantly refusing to admit his problem,” which he didn’t have. Just because he enjoyed gambling didn’t mean he was addicted to it. It was just his favorite form of entertainment. The high stakes... distracted him, though not in the way his so-called family believed. They just kept his mind off of the past few centuries. They allowed him to temporarily forget all the terrible things he’d done.

It wasn’t just the killings and the torturing, though that was bad enough. It was also the rapes. Countless. All in the pursuit of some perverted “pleasure.” And it was centuries of being like that--evil--that he was looking to forget.

It was just that he couldn’t keep his mind off it forever. The poker helped. The casinos helped more, but he lost too much money, so he’d always be back at the poker table, where he played a mean game.

Literally, because he cheated.

But he earned back most of what he lost, and frankly, while he wasn’t a billionaire or anything, the newly organized world government had awarded him with five million dollars for his “services” in the war.

Services. Yeah. The idea still made him snort at the irony. He and his family were the cause of the damned thing. Funny how people liked to forget that. Not that he was complaining, because he liked the money. It was just stupid that people could be so... nonchalant about the whole origin-of-the-war thing.

But after Rome, he’d taken a good, hard look at himself and decided he was, indeed, going a little overboard. He just decided it wasn’t worth it to stop.

He’d come to Japan a little over a week ago, hoping to take a tour or two of the red light district of its capital. Perhaps see if there were any special cafes where he could curl up with someone for the night. Or just harmlessly flirt. Maybe play a few rounds of card games. No luck. He felt like a hobo. Not like he hadn’t experienced that before. He didn’t have anywhere to stay. He’d managed to couch... or rather, bed surf for the past week, but now he’d really just give anything to see a friendly face. What were the chances he’d run into a family member or an Order member here in the city?

He walked down the sidewalk aimlessly, passing fast food stand after fast food stand, Starbucks after Starbucks. He gagged a bit at the smell. As he waited to cross a street, he gazed at the people seated at one of the many cafes he’d passed.

One of the customers put a menu down on the table and signaled to one of the waitresses. He didn’t catch what they ordered because he was too… startled? Relieved? Happy? He didn’t know what emotion was being elicited in him as he recognized the Exorcist. Whatever it was, it was what made him turn around.

He hesitated. He knew that this particular Exorcist was a bit skittish when it came to Noah, so he wasn’t quite sure how to approach, but at this point he was just desperate. He glanced at the shop window. Desperation did not suit him. The waitress was heading back to the man’s table with a slice of cake and a cup of coffee. _To Hell with it_ , he thought, sitting down across the table from the Japanese exorcist. He’d decided to wing it.

“Looks tasty, mind if I grab a bite?”


End file.
